A Fairy Story
by sitabethel
Summary: Unedited WIP. Only read if you just seriously love Deathshipping. There's also some Citronshipping. Fantasy pirate AU. Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: The only reason I never posted (or edited this) is because I want to change the names and put it on Kindle (eventually). When I wrote on my bio that I'd email this to people if they wanted to read it, I honestly thought only 2 or 3 people would ask for it, but I've actually gotten a lot more than that, so I decided to temporarily post it here after all. BUT IT'S UNEDITED SO I'M SORRY FOR THE CRAPPY MISTAKES AND RUSHED ENDING!**

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 ***** Once Upon a Time there was an actor that lived in a world that seemed ugly. No hearth to sleep beside, no cinders to keep him warm on lonely nights; instead, he slept in a wagon with his troupe. One night, after playing the role of a princess in distress, a dashing pirate captured the actor and held him hostage on a pirate ship named** _ **La Muerta.**_ **When the pirate discovered that his prisoner was an actor and not a girl worth a ransom, he fell in love and offered to share a legendary treasure with the actor if he'd join** _ **La Muerta's**_ **crew. In a story, they would have lived happly-ever-after, unfortunately, there was a prophecy stating that the pirate would one day be cursed and die so their love was star-crossed. Unless—***\**

* * *

Ryo felt that the stage was really no different that succumbing to the Draught. Under the lights, when he lost himself to a character and lived their fictional life, it was the same as the melted-sugar-rapture that attracted one to the drug. However, after the crowd left and he packed the props and stage make-up back into chests and had to go onto the road, darning costumes while stuck for hours in a rocking wagon and selling himself to well-to-do baboochkas for enough pretty polly to finish the trip, it was the same as when the drug wore off and left its users cold and shaking for their next taste.

At the moment, Ryo was in costume. The rush of adrenaline that always gripped his nerves before a performance made the lights almost too bright to bear. He smeared creamed rouge on his cheeks and painted his lips with bright red stain, trying to bob his head up or down to get a good look at his face through the cracked mirror held together by a long-ago tarnished frame of gilded metal. In the reflection he saw his brother, Bakura, fastening the cuffs of his costume. Ryo frowned with his now scarlet mouth. "I don't see why I always have to be the tits."

"Oh gods, not this again. Must you bitch before every show?"

"If you don't want me to nag like a devotchka then don't dress me as one."

"You know damn well why you always play the devotchka. In every fairy story ever worth inking down, the maiden is willowy, coy, and snowy, and you, dear brother, are so snowy that Marik swears that your father was a djinn."

"Yarbles."

Bakura grinned, it curved the scar on his tanned, right cheek to a thin, pale crescent. "Personally, I think you're the bastard of one of the sidhe, but who's to say what sort of demon visited our whore-mother that night?"

Marik rushed into the nook that served as their dressing room, his golden hair hidden underneath his helmet. " _Not_ tonight, you two. You know if we start this show late they'll take it out of our cut of the polly."

Bakura lowered his torso in a dramatic bow. "As you wish, lovey. C'mon, Ryo, we're in the first scene together."

"Fine." Ryo snatched a blue ribbon from his impromptu vanity and tied his long, white hair up off his neck. "But just once I'd like a role that didn't involve me being a pair of tits."

"Sorry, _Maria_ ," Marik called him by his character's name. "No one wants a fairytale with complex, strong, capable characters. They want to see the helpless princess get rescued from the diabolical villain by her infallible prince. It's the way of our world."

"Bolshy yarbles." Ryo snorted and adjusted his breasts before walking out onto the stage.

Until the play was over, he never saw the audience that watched him from their seats, hidden in dark while lights lay his every gesture exposed, but Ryo didn't need to see them. If they cheered at the end, if they clapped and stood and tossed little hand-tied bouquets of wild hibiscus or violets on the stage, then Ryo was satisfied and all those hours of cramped, wagon travel and all those nights of following in their mother's occupational footsteps, were a meager price to pay.

Bakura, rather _Draco_ , took Ryo's hand and kissed it, and Ryo turned away and blushed, acting as meek and frail as the audience wanted him to be. Marik stepped onto the stage with a drawn sword, his posture and bold laugh denoting him as the villain. They spoke their lines and played their parts – lost to the moment, the only reality that of their characters' – until the usurper lay dead on the stage leaving Maria and Draco alive to wed and live in a vague, impossible happily-ever-after.

The play ended and they received their standing ovation from the audience as they bowed low, hands clasped together. Afterward, they collected their share of the pretty polly and condensed all their belongings back into the wagon. They still wore their costumes, though Marik removed the fake armor. The three actors stopped at the _Broken Mast Pub_ at the edge of town for pints of stout to celebrate a good performance.

The public house faced the docks and sailors or merchants crowded around most of the tables. The men whistled and shouted lewd suggestions at Ryo as he walked past them still wearing lace and ribbon. It took too much time to unfasten all the buttons and loops of his costume. The gown, the petticoats, the corset, each piece was a gauntlet of hooks and snaps meant to warp the female figure into something idolic and they had to be back on the road after midnight, so Ryo always suffered wearing his dresses and makeup until they were back in the wagon where he could change at his leisure.

He wouldn't mind, if a few of the more handsome sailors went through on their threats, but he knew without the feminine shape in which the dress forced on his body, the sailors would have no interest in him, so he focused on his beer. The foam, almost as white as Ryo's skin, tickled his lips. The cold, bitter taste of the stout beneath the foam shocked Ryo's tongue and he sighed as he drained half the mug in a single, needful swallow.

"I have always admired the way you drink." Marik laughed, Bakura's arm wrapped around his shoulder. "It's like you cross a desert before tasting each glass."

"I taught him everything he knows," Bakura bragged before taking a drink from his own cup.

"Oh? Is that true, Ryo?" Marik asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, he did teach me how to play a tin whistle, if that counts for anything."

They laughed and set their glasses to the edge of the table to let the servers know they needed another round. While they waited, they sat and critiqued the bard singing in the corner of the public house, and laughed the the sailors failed attempts to impress the serving wenches. One meandered to their table with three fresh pints, sweat trickling down the sides of the mugs. Marik winked at the girl and she blushed before dashing away from their table.

Ryo leaned back into his seat, the cushions soft and comfortable against his body – much more comfortable than the flat, wooden benches of their wagon. He gazed up at the thick, exposed rafters criss-crossing the ceiling. When he glanced back down, he noticed Bakura whispering in Marik's ear, their fingers brushing together. Ryo smiled. He thought it was cute how sweet Bakura and Marik could be to each other when they thought no one watched, though most of the time they bickered like starry baboochkas. He didn't stare, looking back up at the rafters. Even if he wasn't trying to be polite, Ryo was too jealous of his brother to look anywhere other than the beams above his head.

A crash and shout intruded the normal noise of the pub. Ryo glanced to his left, expecting to see two sailors have at it over one of the serving devotchkas. Instead, Ryo saw half a dozen men holding scimitars and robbing one of the more notorious merchants. Ryo, Bakura, and Marik all finished their stout and rose to leave without speaking. They went to the back of the public house and snuck out the back through the kitchen.

"Pirates," Marik whispered as they walked out into the cool evening air. "Better to avoid all that."

"It's time we get back on the road anyway," Bakura said.

Ryo trailed behind them. His blasted heels and skirts slowed him down. He lifted the layers of silk and lace up so he could trudge through the muck-covered cobblestone quicker. He opened his mouth to tell the other two to wait for him, but before he could speak, a broad hand clamped over his mouth while another one wrapped around his waist. Ryo struggled, but the arms holding him against a broad chest were too strong for him.

"Shhh," a voice whispered in Ryo's ear. "I've found, over the years, that the best hostages often have body guards that help them sneak through the back during a pirate raid." The hands crammed a silk handkerchief into Ryo's mouth, binding the cloth with a scarf so that Ryo couldn't scream for help. The pirate tied Ryo's wrists, arms, ankles, and calves, preventing him from moving.

Ryo felt himself hoisted over his captor's shoulder. All he saw from his vantage point was a long, royal-violet cape shifting in the night-darkened air. The hands now held Ryo in place against his captor's shoulder, one secured on his ass, the other on his legs. The body beneath him felt warm and dense with muscle, if Ryo shifted his gaze, he noticed a wild array of blond hair, the mane of an exotic beast from a fable or a bard's song. The aroma of spiced rum and sea salt and sweat clung to the pirate like cologne, and Ryo, despite knowing he should struggle harder to escape, found himself sifting deeper into the hold and sucking in the delicious smell of the pirate. He hoped the multiple layers of petticoats and silk prevented the pirate from noticing Ryo's forming erection. He knew, with his gown and blue hair ribbon and red stained lips, that the pirate mistook Ryo for a high-born devotchka, and that the truth would earn Ryo a ruby necklace carved into his throat with a dagger.

Ryo tested the ropes around his wrists as the pirate carried Ryo back to his ship. They were well knotted, but Ryo knew he could untie them once left alone. Already too far away from Marik and Bakura, Ryo decided to allow himself to be taken hostage until he found a more opportune time to escape.

* * *

The pirate brought Ryo to his cabin, dumping Ryo on a dark green, velvet upholstered chair. He lit a lamp and warned Ryo with a raised finger. "Virgins get a higher ransom, so as long as you behave this will be as short and as pleasant an experience as possible. I'd prefer your father's money to your life, but I won't hesitate."

Ryo wanted to roll his glazzies at the vague threats – he was used to specific, detailed terms that were never threats – but at the moment he was in character. He kept his glazzies wide and tried to push soft mewls past his gag like any other frightened devotchka. All the while, he used the time to admire the pirate's face. The pirate resembled Marik enough to tell Ryo they were both Easterners. They had the same golden hair and lavender stare, but Ryo preferred this stranger standing above him. Marik was smooth and polished; however, the man standing before Ryo was coarse and unfinished looking, wild.

He knelt on one knee, staring in Ryo's green glazzies. "You've calmed down a bit."

Ryo blinked three times, realizing he'd stopped acting frightened. He couldn't decide what to do so he pretended to faint into the soft, plush upholstery of the chair.

He heard the pirate snort out a breath of amusement. Ryo almost jerked up when he felt the coarse fingertips smooth over his cheekbone. He wanted to lean into the warmth and sigh but knew he couldn't so he stayed as still as he was able. "There's something very . . . strange about you." The hand withdrew from Ryo's face and Ryo held his breath as he listened to the footsteps. When he thought it safe, Ryo slit his glazzies open. The pirate removed his cape and undid the top buttons of his blouse. Ryo cracked his glazzies opened a little wider so he could snatch a better look at his captor's chest. The pirate kicked off his boots and slumped into the bed. Ryo waited until his breath rose and fell soft and rhythmic from his chest before he started working at the knots around his wrists.

The first rope wasn't difficult and, once it dropped to the chair cushion, Ryo could reach the ropes on his ankles and calves. Unfortunately, he couldn't reach the ropes above his elbows. Ryo glanced around the room, he noticed a wardrobe with ornate, ivory-carved handles. Ryo lifted himself from the chair, trying to keep his skirts quiet as they swished-shuffled-swished from his walking. Ryo squatted near the wardrobe, wiggling the bottom of the wardrobe-handle into his ropes and using the leverage to shimmy his narrow arms away from the rope.

The process was slow, but once free Ryo looked around the room. There were a few end tables in the room, the wardrobe, and the bed. The walls were bare except a strange arrangement of gears that served as a clock. Ryo had seen a few in his travels, though they weren't as common as water clocks, but usually used the sun and stars to tell the time himself. He helped himself to a cigar out of a box resting on a table with maps and navigation equipment. Ryo chewed on the end of the unlit cigar, trying to find something better to steal before he left the ship. He didn't see anything, any treasure on board presumably locked away. Ryo gave one last, longing look at the pirate asleep on a bed much too big for one person. He sighed and moved towards the door. As Ryo's hand reached out and touched the handle the pirate slammed into him, pressing his cheek against the wood. Ryo bit into the cigar, refusing to let it drop from his mouth.

The pirate spun Ryo around so they stood face to face, Ryo still pressed against the door. The pirate frowned when he noticed the stolen cigar in Ryo's mouth. Ryo grinned and shrugged. The pirate snatched the cigar from Ryo's lips and bit into it himself; his expression that of a spoiled child re-claiming his favorite toy. "I don't know how you got out of those ropes, but you're going to regret it."

"There's something about me you should know," Ryo said.

The pirate slapped him; Ryo hit his head hard against the door from the impact. "Wenches don't speak on my ship."

"About that—"

The pirate slapped him again. "I told you—"

"I'm a malchick."

The pirate raised his hand again. He stopped and furrowed his brow and frowned. "What?"

"I'm an actor in costume. Didn't mean to waste your time, lovey, but you didn't exactly give me a chance to explain earlier."

The pirate's glazzies darted to and fro as he studied Ryo. He grabbed one of Ryo's fake breasts and then ripped the front of Ryo's gown.

"Cut that out. It's expensive."

He ignored Ryo, stripping Ryo's top half completely bare and tossing the padded brassiere to the floor. His rough hands explored Ryo's chest as if touch would somehow convince him of what his sight couldn't comprehend.

Ryo hadn't been touched by a man in too long and the pirate's calloused palms felt exquisite against his bare chest. Ryo bit his lower lip to hold in any noises he might make from the sensation of strong hands on his body.

The pirate still rough-handled him, his expression perplexed. He grabbed Ryo's hair to hold him tighter against the door and thrust his hand below the remainder of Ryo's dress. When the pirate grabbed Ryo's erection, Ryo gasped, unable to hold in the noise.

"You're a boy," the pirate whispered, hand still absentmindedly squeezing Ryo.

Ryo grunted in acknowledgment, glazzies squeezed shut as he tried to put his thoughts somewhere else but his mind was too content with the moment to be distracted. "Um, would you, please . . ." He couldn't finish the sentence. Please what? Stop? That's the last thing he wanted. Squeeze harder? Jerk up and down until he came in pirate's hand? Yes. That's what he wanted to say, but couldn't very well say it out loud so he stood against the door with his erection twitching in the pirates hand.

Realization caught up with the pirate. He pushed himself away as if Ryo were on fire, the cigar dropping to the floor. He looked away. "You're hard."

"I'm sorry," Ryo said, his glazzies still closed while he waited for a shiv to punch his gut as punishment for his perversion.

The pain never came, only a the mild creek of the pirate's mattress. Ryo looked and saw the pirate sitting on the edge of his bed, hands resting on his knees, glazzies blinking at the rugs covering the floor. Ryo sighed in relief. He walked to the corner of the room near the wardrobe. A basin and pitcher rested on a shelf. Ryo used a small amount of water to wash the stage make-up from his face. He saw a box of matches and took them, going back to the door and retrieving the cigar. He lit it, enjoying the seasoned smell of the tobacco smoke and how it burned his lungs. After a few draws from the cigar, he sat next to the pirate and handed the smoke over. "Here, you look like you need this."

The pirate took the cigar absentmindedly and puffed at it.

"What a waste." Ryo stood up and shimmied out of the skirts and petticoats, leaving himself in only a half-corset that connected to a cream-colored garter, stockings, and matching heels. The cream fabric looked dull compared to Ryo's skin.

"What the hells are you doing?"

"You ripped my costume to shreds. Besides." Ryo looked down at his tall legs flowing from the garter-belt. His erection still hung low from excessive blood flow. "I'm not ashamed to say that I look damn good in this." He plopped back on the bed.

Ryo reached out his hand for a turn at the cigar. The pirate, still dazed, handed it to Ryo as if he didn't know what else he could do. Ryo closed his glazzies and took a hard pull at the half smoked ciggy. He exhaled slow. He felt the pirates fingers brush against his bottom lip and the breath hitched in Ryo's throat.

"Your lips are still red."

Ryo crossed his legs, taking another hit from their shared cigar. "It's a special stain. Alcohol removes it, got any rum?"

He didn't really expect the pirate to accommodate his request, so he was surprised when the pirate stood and retrieved a squat, glass bottle and a clean handkerchief. He dabbed the cloth with liquor and rubbed it against Ryo's lips. Ryo sat there, shocked, unable to move as the pirate removed his lip-rouge for him. It seemed like something a gentleman would do, and Ryo wasn't used to being treated with curtsey. He breathed through his mouth, breath shifting the silk of the handkerchief. On instinct, Ryo half closed his glazzies. The pirate leaned forward, moving his lips closer to Ryo's and Ryo wondered if he was still gagged and bound, sitting in the chair, asleep and dreaming.

The pirate moved his hand. Ryo licked his lips and tasted rum and spice. Then the pirate's mouth pressed against his. The cigar burned unattended in Ryo's hand as he and the pirate worked their lips against each other. Ryo slung his leg around so he sat in the pirate's lap, both hands wrapped around the pirate's neck, careful not to burn him with the cigar's cherry.

Ryo's bare erection pressed against the pirate's slacks. He felt the pirate's arousal through the fabric of his britches and Ryo tried to rub against the growing mound. The pirate moaned, loud. His lavender glazzies shot open with the sound and he pushed Ryo onto the rug below.

Ryo winced as he landed hard on his bottom. "Ouch."

"You need to go."

"Go?"

"Yes. Go. You're useless for ransom. Get off my ship."

"But, but, I thought—"

"Go."

Ryo clenched his jaw and put the cigar out on the rug, grinding ash into the threads as well as he could. "Fine. Thanks for the smoke."

Ryo stood and marched to the ruined pile of lace. He scolded himself for wasting time and he dug through the petticoats for something he could use as a waist-wrap to get himself back to the wagon a little better than naked. He ripped at the linen and then tied it around his waist.

"What are you doing?" the pirate asked.

"Well, can't parade around like a devotchka now, but I'd still like something to cover myself with." Ryo walked towards the door.

As Ryo passed the pirate, he stood and grabbed Ryo's arm. Ryo smacked him aside, angry and suffering from a broken, rejected feeling throbbing in his chest. The pirate grabbed him again and pulled him towards the wardrobe.

"Sod off and let go." Ryo punched him again, in the left breast.

Ryo was wiry, but capable of fighting; however, the pirate was too dense with muscle and took the blow in stride. He opened the wardrobe and took an old, faded pair of leather trousers out of the closet. "Here." He pushed the pants into Ryo's arm. "They'll be big, but it's better than a slip."

Ryo clenched his jaw and looked away as he took the slacks from the pirate's hand. He never felt pity for himself having to grow up in a whore house, (in fact, he and his brother often had fun during their childhood); he never felt regret during those quick nights with eager, emotionally detached men that could only provide basic release but never anything substantial; he never felt shame when he sold himself to lonely baboochkas for extra polly, but something about the moment – about a handsome pirate kicking him out of the ship's cabin but still lending him a pair of slacks before he left so he wouldn't be naked – made Ryo want to sink to his knees and weep. Used to changing in a rush during a performance, Ryo jumped into the slacks, but his heels caught and he fell.

The pirate caught him and held him upright. Ryo bit his bottom lip, wanting to curse, wanting to bury his face in the pirate's chest, wanting to cry. "I don't see why," Ryo spoke in an angry hiss, unable to help himself. "You're going out of your way to avoid a taboo from a culture you hated so much that you ran to the sea to escape it."

They looked at each other, Ryo's foot still tangled in the slacks.

"Well." The pirate snorted. "I don't see how you walk in those shoes."

Ryo's lips twitched up in a slight grin. "I can waltz in them, too."

The pirate glanced away. "I do hate my homeland."

"Then ignore the traditions of your homeland."

He pressed Ryo against the wardrobe door. He knotted their fingers together, lifting Ryo's arms above his head and holding them against the wooden surface of the closet. The trousers fell to the ground and Ryo stepped back out of them.

"Um . . ." the pirate avoided Ryo's stare, he looked nervous.

"What is it?" Ryo asked.

"I've never done this."

Ryo thought about what he said, trying to figure out what he meant. "With a malchick?"

"With anyone."

And suddenly leaving sounded like a good idea. "Oh. Um, oh. You, well, then perhaps I should go. I'm not really a good pick for a first. We, uh, haven't even been introduced."

"Kek. That's my name."

Ryo looked up at him. "I'm Ryo."

"You do look good in those stockings, Ryo."

"I know I do." It wasn't vanity, though Ryo was a little vain, it was just the truth.

Kek gave him a shy glance. "I want to kiss you again. May I?"

Ryo blushed, feeling the hot rush of blood to his face and lips. No one had ever asked him, ever, it made Ryo feel like a virgin himself. "Please do."

This time Kek kissed him slow, tentatively slipping his tongue into Ryo's mouth. Kek pressed against Ryo, releasing Ryo's hands so he could brush his fingertips against Ryo's face as he continued his meek, gentle kisses. Ryo's pulse throbbed in his temples, he held Kek's waist with one hand, using his other to explore the triangle of exposed skin peeking from his half-buttoned shirt.

Kek lifted Ryo up and carried him to the bed, setting him down and kissing his chest. He moved down to the half corset cinched around Ryo's waist. He took his time unfastening the laces, licking Ryo's pale skin as it became exposed. Ryo lay back and gasped, thinking Kek seemed awfully intuitive for someone who claimed they'd never had a go at the old in and out before. When Kek freed Ryo from the final knot of his corset, he glided his hands down to Ryo's right stocking. Ryo sat up on his elbows so he could watch Kek kiss his leg while unbuttoning the garter and rolling the stocking down with slow turns of nylon. Ryo kicked off his shoes. After the first stocking, Kek worked on the second, smothering Ryo's calf with kisses. He traveled back up Ryo's body, sucking on Ryo's neck and grinding into him.

Ryo reached up, he tore the pirate's shirt open, ripping the buttons away from the fabric. Kek pulled back. "Hey, stop that."

He grinned. "Fair is fair, lovey."

Ryo tried to remove the shirt, but Kek held his hands. "Leave it be."

Ryo blinked at him for a moment, his face sunk into a sad expression when he realized why Kek wanted to keep his shirt on. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"I mean, it's not that—"

Ryo pressed a finger to Kek's lips to silence him. "It's okay. I know."

Kek's glazzies rounded with shock. He shoved Ryo's hand away. "What do you think you know?"

Ryo looked away. "You don't want me to see the scars. It's okay. I won't try to look."

Kek watched Ryo, quiet. He asked, "how did you know?"

"I've seen Marik's back. He's from your country."

"Marik? That's the name of a prince that died seven years ago."

"Not so much died as eloped with my scoundrel brother." Ryo tilted his head in thought. "So are you nobility?"

"No."

"I thought only those with a high birth got . . . marked."

Kek drew runes on Ryo's chest. His expression distracted as he considered what he should say next. "I was a priest."

"Yeah? No wonder you left. I'd jumped on the first ship leaving, too."

Kek half-smiled. His shirt slipped over one of his dark shoulders. Ryo reached up and pulled the fabric back in place. He grabbed the lapel of Kek's collar, pulling Kek down while keeping the fabric stretched across his back. Ryo returned to kissing him. "What about your trousers? Are those okay to tear off?"

Kek answered by unfastening his belt and sliding out of his slacks. Ryo reached down with one hand to teased Kek's cock, raising an amused eyebrow when he realized that Kek had been born lucky. Then he realized he'd want something slicker than saliva before they began. "Do you have any olive oil? Lard will work, if that's all you have."

"Olive oil?"

Ryo spread his legs wider and guided Kek's hand to his opening. "You know. I thought since it was your first time I'd let you . . . you know." Ryo looked concerned. "Unless you'd rather I do you. I'm good either way."

"I, uh, I don't know."

"It might be better if you do me, then." They lay tangled together for a moment in awkward silence. "So . . . grease?"

"Oh." Kek shook his head. "I have something better." He reached to the headboard, opening up a hidden compartment and pulling out a glazed, clay jar. He unscrewed the cap and handed the jar to Ryo. "Smell of it."

Curious, Ryo took the jar and sniffed the thick, cloudy oil. "That's nice," Ryo confessed, "like almonds, and – I'm not sure."

"Coconut, there are other oils, too."

"What's coconut?"

"It's like a fruit. We eat them a lot when we're out to sea."

Ryo dipped a finger into the mixture. The cloudy liquid melted at his touch, turning clear and slick on the tip of his finger. He grinned and used the oiled finger to rub against the tip of Kek's penis. Kek grunted, closing his glazzies and shivering. He dipped his thick fingers into the jar and pulled out a generous dollop of oil, greasing himself with the liquid. He took another dollop and smeared it around Ryo's opening, sticking a finger inside.

Ryo exhaled a pleasant _ah_ as Kek curved his finger up and rubbed inside. "If this is your first time . . . how do you know to do that? And why do you have oil near your bed?"

Kek stared down, his face fiery-complected. "I-I've done this to myself."

Ryo gave a soft laugh, laying back and spreading his legs as wide as he could. Kek stared and swallowed, slipping in a second finger. "Please," Ryo whispered, "please, don't wait any longer."

Kek situated on top of Ryo. It took him a moment to position himself. Ryo felt the hard knot of his head push inside. Ryo clenched his jaw, the oil helped, but it always felt rough at first. Kek moaned as he experimented with the speed and depth of his thrusts. After a few minutes, he settled into a regular rhythm, and that's when Ryo lost himself in the experience. "Oh, oh lovey, you're good at this." Ryo whispered, curling up so he could rest his forehead against Kek's chest. He held the shirt in place on Kek's back so Kek could move freely without worrying about the shirt slipping away from his body. "Bloody hell, you're downright horror show at this!" Ryo screamed and tossed his head back, closing his glazzies so he could concentrate on the sensation of Kek's movements.


	2. Chapter 2

*****Since I have no intention of ever editing *this version* of the story. I'm just going to post a chapter a day to get it out there. The zombie fic will still update every Monday.*****

* * *

Chapter 2

Bakura stopped when they were near the edge of the town and close to their wagon. "Well, that was a night. I'm surprised you made it all this way without bitching about your dress, Ryo." Bakura turned around and saw Marik behind him, but not Ryo. "Where's Ryo?"

Marik looked behind him and then back to Bakura. "I thought he was right behind us."

"Shit."

"Don't worry, Bakura. I'm sure the costume just made him slow. If we backtrack, we should find him in a moment – and he can spend the rest of the night bitching at us for leaving him behind."

Bakura snorted in agreement as they started walking back towards the pub. The only sign of Ryo they discovered was a single, faux pearl earring laying in a puddle between the cracks of cobblestone.

"Shit." Bakura fetched the earring from the puddle and stared at it.

"You know, with us all in costume, Ryo would look like quite the rich, ransom-worthy, devotchka with her two hired swords."

"Guess we're off to find a pirate ship."

"My sword is back at the wagon."

Bakura slipped a dagger from its sheath and handed the faded, dark leather handle to Marik. Marik smiled when he took the well-worn knife and held it in his hand. "Are we going to play this stealthy?"

"Hells no. I'm in a bad mood because the little bugger is making us late. Let's just jump on board and brawl. They're just pirates."

They walked toward the docks, matching grins on their tanned faces. Marik winked at Bakura. "Then want to make it a little extra interesting?"

"I'm always up for an added challenge."

"First one to use his knife has to give the other a blow job."

"Mmm," Bakura purred, "I like the way you think. Deal."

They knew the ship by the black flag shifting in the breeze, an hourglass held by a skeleton hand printed on the fabric served as a clear warning to others to avoid the ship. Marik gestured to the plank leading from the dock to the ship. "How nice of them to keep the red carpet out for us."

Bakura said, "let's do the bit where we pretend to be shclogged and on the wrong ship by mistake."

Marik swung his arm over Bakura's shoulder and started singing _Jug of Punch_. They skipped across the docking plank and onto the ship's deck. Before they finished their song, however, they stopped and looked around. "Where is everyone?" Marik asked.

Bakura scratched his head. "Probably at the whore house, now that they're loaded up on pretty polly from robbing everyone at the pub. You'd think they'd post a guard or something."

"Well, damn, a performance is no fun without an audience." Marik walked towards the cabin. "Let's see if we can find your brother before anyone gets back."

Bakura pouted. "With it this easy, neither of us will lose our bet."

"Don't worry, Bakura, the night isn't over."

They meandered through the cabin halls, checking rooms in hopes of finding Ryo – or at least some pirate treasure that they could rescue along with Ryo. They managed to find the galley and a storage room and then they heard Ryo scream. Bakura and Marik looked at each other for a moment and then ran down the hallway towards the noise. Another scream and they ran faster, stopping in front of a closed door.

"On three," Bakura said, "one—"

They kicked the door in after one.

* * *

Ryo screamed with pleasure. He held his breath afterward as a slight tremor tingled his loins. Two more minutes and his world was going to explode. He screamed again. Ryo still clung to Kek's shirt, but more for something to hold onto instead of as a courtesy to Kek. At first, Ryo feared Kek would only last a few minutes, it being his first time, but – to Ryo's delight – they'd been going at it for near a half hour.

Sweat caused Kek's rich, brown-sugar-colored skin to glow in the lantern light. Mouth knotted, glazzies closed, Ryo saw that he was on the verge of release. Ryo wanted to say something lovely to him, make the experience of his first orgasm with another person nice. He'd wiped the lip-rouge from Ryo's mouth with such a tender hand, this pirate who had kidnapped him, and Ryo felt an insatiable urge to return the gesture. Only, he couldn't think of anything. He simply stared at Kek's face, and breathed in the scent of their heated bodies in motion, and shouted himself close to orgasm as his fingers dug into the fabric of Kek's sweat-soaked shirt.

He heard the door slam open and saw two figures rip Kek away from him. It was the most emptying feeling Ryo'd ever known and for a second he couldn't breath. Then Ryo realized what was happening and had to lurch off of the bed and throw himself around Kek, trying to get the knife in Bakura's hand away from Kek's throat. "Stop! Stop! It's okay!" Ryo tried to explain, his mind still too overwhelmed to articulate much.

"Marik, get him away."

Marik attempted to pull Ryo's arm away from Kek's neck, but Ryo pushed him. Marik stumbled three steps backwards, hitting the bed before catching his balance. Ryo wedged his arm between the knife and Kek's throat, the blade sliced a thin string of red into Ryo's arm that dripped onto Kek's already torn shirt. "Bakura, stop it right now or I'll smash your face."

Bakura scowled. "What the hells are wrong with you? We're trying to rescue you."

"Rescue me? You wanker, I escaped an hour ago and all you're managing to do is ruin a perfectly horror show evening."

Bakura removed the knife so he could lean down and shout in his little brother's face. "Did you hit your bloody head? We're s'pose to be on the road."

"Well I didn't plan on getting kidnapped."

"Well, then, let's go."

"No." Ryo stood up so he was eye level with Bakura. "You go."

Bakura smacked the side of Ryo's head, not a proper hit, just a brotherly thump. "Go back to the wagon and leave without you?"

"You know that's not what I meant. Just go away – anywhere – I don't care where. Just, please leave me alone for a few minutes. I don't bust in on you and Marik when you're fooling around in the back of the wagon."

The conversation paused for half a moment, Marik took the opportunity to speak in a voice calmer than his cohorts'. "He really was worried about you."

"Was not, but now we're behind schedule."

Ryo stared at the ceiling. "I'm sorry. I'll make up any polly we lose from it, just, please Bakura, some time alone."

Bakura scowled. "Where would you have us wait, princess? We're not going back to the wagon. I'm not trudging all the way back here to fetch you if you dawdle."

Kek, who'd sat silent and still during the ordeal except for the occasional glance at Ryo or Marik, ripped a strip from the front of his already torn shirt. He stood up slow and wrapped the cloth around Ryo's arm. "Go to the galley. There's Bumbo to drink."

Ryo watched Kek dress the shallow cut on his arm. It'd already stopped bleeding and he hadn't worried about it; nonetheless, the fact that Kek was tending to him again made him feel all the worse for the situation.

Bakura also watched Kek bandage Ryo's arm, a strange, unreadable expression on his face. "Whatever. C'mon, Marik."

Marik grinned as he followed Bakura out of Kek's room. "You used your knife. I win our bet."

When they left, Kek shut the door behind them. The latch didn't catch, broken from being kicked, but Kek didn't seem concerned with it.

Ryo rubbed his temples. "I'm sorry. By all twenty seven gods I'm sorry." Ryo tried to laugh, but it was a weak, weary sound. "Told you I was a bad pick for a first. I'm a face down copper piece – unlucky."

"Always thought of myself as the same." Kek lifted Ryo up and pressed him against the wall.

Ryo's glazzies grew round when Kek kissed him again in an attempt to recapture the lost moment. "Are you sure about this?" Ryo whispered in his ear, feeling horrible.

"We didn't finish."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Shhhh." Kek silenced him with kisses, and there was no more questioning.

Ryo wrapped his legs around Kek's waist. They had been too close before and it took only a moment for the erections to recuperate from the awkward interruption. They stayed against the wall, Kek inside Ryo once again. This time Ryo didn't scream, knowing his brother and Marik were within hearing range. He pressed his face against Kek's chest and moaned. Kek held Ryo in place with one hand supporting his bottom as the other stroked Ryo's shaft. "Are you close?" he whispered.

Ryo gasped in each breath, nodding at Kek's question. "Gods yes I'm close."

"Good. I want to, I want to finish so bad."

Ryo looked up from Kek's chest. "Don't wait on me."

"I won't go until you go."

"Kek," Ryo said his name with the softest voice he could manage. Ryo watched the sweat drip across Kek's face and down his throat.

"Please. Please. Please," Kek begged.

Ryo's heart felt caught in his ribcage. He held onto the feeling as they moved their bodies into each other. A shiver started deep in Ryo's belly and trembled across his body. Ryo's head tilted back and his glazzies rolled into the back of his head as the breath stuck in his throat. As he shook, he felt Kek pour into him, hot and slick. When they were both finished, Kek lowered them to the rug. Ryo sat in his lap. He held Ryo in a tight embrace that made Ryo continued to shiver but in a different way. "Stop being sweet," Ryo whispered, "it's killing me."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, lovey, don't apologize. I should be apologizing. I'm not worth any ransom. You couldn't even have at the old in and out without my brother trying to kill you. I'll just . . . I'll go now. I'm sorry I stayed."

Ryo tried to stand up but Kek held him in place. "Don't go."

Ryo blinked, not really understanding. "But, I mean, don't you want me gone now that you're done?"

"Stay the night."

As a prostitute, Ryo was used to a fun and run policy. Even when he had personal affairs, he always left afterward. No one, male lovers or female clients, ever asked him to stay. The words clogged his throat as he tried to speak. "I-I can't. We should've been on the road by now."

"For a little while, at least?"

Ryo nodded. Kek hoisted Ryo up in his arms and carried him to the bed, setting him down and crawling beside him. He covered them with a wool blanket and kept Ryo pressed tight against him. Ryo closed his glazzies and breathed in the scent of Kek's skin again. He wanted to fall asleep, but knew he couldn't. "This is nice," he whispered the words against Kek's body.

Kek spoke in a low tone as he held Ryo. "There's a treasure. It belonged to the old kings that ruled the East before my people took over. It's a legend many say doesn't exist."

Ryo grunted to show that he was still listening, although he was starting to doze.

"I have a map."

"Oh?"

"Come with me to find it."

"What?" Ryo blinked himself back awake. "With you? You mean become a pirate?"

"Yes."

Ryo chuckled. "I could play one on the stage, but I imagine there's a good deal more work involved on a real ship."

"You're already good with knots."

Ryo twirled his fingertip along the skin on Kek's chest. "It's tempting, but I can't just leave. Me and my brother . . . we're all we have. I mean, he has Marik, too, but I can't just leave them."

"Don't they like treasure?"

"They'd never agree to something like that."

"You could buy your own theater house. Stop scrounging to get from town to town in a wagon to make coin for someone else and only taking the scraps they hand you."

Ryo looked at Kek's purple glazzies. "Why? Why do you want me to go?"

Kek smiled. "So you can sleep here tonight. Next to me."

Ryo blushed and looked back down at Kek's chest. "That's ridiculous."

"And every night we sail. I like you."

"That's the orgasm talking."

Kek took Ryo's chin in his grip and forced Ryo to look at him. "Say that again. Look me in the face and say I'm talking like a little boy who just discovered his dick and doesn't know better."

Ryo couldn't. There was too much determination in Kek's stare. "They'll never agree to go."

"I think I can convince the princeling to go." Kek grinned and shifted to reach into the hidden niche in which he'd stored the oil. He pulled a gold chain out attached to an amulet shaped like the sun. He slipped the bauble over Ryo's neck. "Show this to Marik. It'll interest him."

Ryo stared at the charm, admiring the gold. The amulet felt heavy in his hands, unlike the costume jewelry he usually wore. "Okay." Ryo shifted out of the bed, retrieving his loaned slacks. He had to tie them with a string he took from the ruins of his costume, but they fit well enough. "I'll give it a try, what's the harm in it? If they say yes then I guess we're pirates, but I don't expect it. This is probably our goodbye." Ryo went to the door, stopping before he stepped across the threshold. Ryo didn't turn around. He stared at the ground and spoke to Kek. "If, if this is goodbye. I just want you to know that . . . it would have been nice – to stay the whole night. I'm sorry." He went down the hall to search for the galley.


	3. Chapter 3

*****Okay . . . nadsat. I got a few comments about it. Anthony Burgess was a linguist who wrote** _**A Clockwork Orange**_ **and he put his own slang into the novel. I used a few words in this fic, and since more than one person seemed confused, I'll add a brief glossary. (Seriously, am I the only one that thought "fuck yeah, my droog!" when Melvin in ygotas gets excited about delicious ultra violence in ep 56?)**

 **Glossary:**

baboochka – old woman  
bolshy – big, large  
cutter – money (in this fic, it refers to paper money)  
creech – shout, scream, or cry out  
devotchka – young woman  
glazzies - eyes  
horror show – fucking bad-ass, or "super-special-awesome"  
krovvy – blood  
malchick – boy or man  
polly – money (in this fic it's coin money which is more common than paper)  
starry – ancient, old  
yarbles – bullocks  
The old in and out – you don't need me to explain that one :-/

 **Other terms that aren't nadsat, but may need explaining.  
** Lovey – term of endearment  
Draught – a hallucinatory drug unique to the fic  
Going on account – It was the term one used when signing a contract to work as a pirate  
Galley – the kitchen in a ship  
Tits, pair of tits – a female  
Sidhe – mounds of earth that house the Aos Si (people of the mounds) or fairies. Bakura uses the term to describe the fairies themselves, however  
Djinn – a genie  
Baubles - trinkets.

* * *

Chapter 3

This is how Marik met Bakura. It was his wedding day and, after weeks of fasts and prayers, law required Marik to purify himself in a spring hidden in the palace garden so his body could be clean for the wedding ceremony. No one could see the prince during his purification, but Marik paid a heavy sum to have an alchemist meet him in secret before he bathed in the waters, and once his cleansing was complete, Marik walked back to his room for his final hours of meditation. He carried a small glass bottle hidden within his clothes.

Away from the harsh sun, in the cool, shady hallway leading to his room, Marik met his brother, Rishid. Older than Marik, Rishid should have been the next in line for the throne; however, Rishid was a bastard and therefore didn't hold the history of his bloodline on his back, nor could he rule. Marik envied him.

Rishid smiled. "It's a happy day."

"I suppose."

"Brother, I know you do not want to go through with the wedding, but our sister has assured me that it is a happy day. Here is a gift. To your long and happy life." Rishid held out a box carved from ebony.

Marik took the box and bowed to show his gratitude. "May I?" he asked.

Rishid nodded.

Marik opened the box to see the gift inside. A scimitar rested on a bed of dark purple velvet. He picked up the blade, the handle carved from onyx to resemble a great serpent, and admired the Damascus steel. "Very handsome."

"Our sister suggested the gift."

Marik set the blade back into the case. He noticed two matching daggers also in the box. "Why daggers? I would never use these."

Rishid smiled. "Again, our sister. She says they complete the set."

"I know our dear sister is an oracle and knows many things, but she is odd."

"Perhaps, but her soothsaying has yet to be proven incorrect." Rishid embraced his younger brother, surprising Marik. "Live well."

Rishid left Marik alone in the hall. Marik shook his head and continued to his room. Next, his sister, Isis appeared. "Sister." Marik bowed again.

She smiled. Like Rishid and most of their people, her hair and eyes were dark. "It's a happy day."

"So our brother has said."

"A little sad for us, to be honest. We're losing you today."

Marik frowned, the awareness of the small, black bottle sharp in his mind. He tried to hide his thoughts, knowing his sister's powers as an oracle gave her insights out of the reach of most people.

"Here is a gift. To your long and happy life."

Marik took the smaller box, carved in pale rosewood. He balanced it with his sword case and opened it. Two matching upper-arm bangles lay beneath a pale blue velvet backdrop. "My wet nurse often told me stories where the hero wore a marriage bangle, but I've never seen a pair."

"It is an old tradition, but it suits you, my brother."

"They look too big for my bride."

"Trust me, Marik, they will fit you and your intended well."

Marik closed the case, one could not argue with Isis, so he didn't press the issue. "Thank you for the gift."

"Live well." Like Rishid, Isis hugged her brother.

The gesture awkward because of his gifts, Marik managed to wrap an arm around her. "You should know, my sister, that my siblings are my joy. Please remember that. No matter what happens."

"Don't worry Marik. Even after you unite with your intended and begin your new life we will still meet again."

Marik forced his mouth into a tight, false smile. "I know. Goodbye."

She left in the same direction as Rishid and Marik finished the trek to his room. However, once inside, the chipped, cold metal of a dagger pressed against Marik's throat. The blade flashed from the sunlight spilling in from Marik's window. "Don't move." A rich, cashmere voice whispered in Marik's ear. "I just want your shinnies, but if you scream I'll spill all the lovely, red, red krovvy from your throat."

"Do it," Marik said, a moment of relief fluttered in his chest.

"I don't take orders. Just stand there like a good princeling and I'll be gone to let you get ready for whatever pompous feast you're attending tonight."

Marik snorted as the relief left him. "My wedding feast, actually."

"Wedding? Well, congratulations, prince."

"Move that knife. I want to look at you."

"I don't take orders, lovey. Gods, you're dim." The thief removed the knife and spun Marik around. "But I wouldn't mind a better look at you, so look back if it pleases your highness."

It did please him. The thief was dark, but his hair and eyes gleamed a cruel silver-white. He wore crimson, which suited him, though Marik thought it an incompetent color for a thief to wear during a heist. "Listen, thief, if you want valuables you can take these." He held out his wedding gifts. "All I ask in return is that you slit my throat."

The thief sighed and shook his head. "Thieving involves me taking things, not your negotiating favors and giving me things. When you pay someone to murder royalty that's assassination. I'm a thespian first, a whore second, and a thief last, but I am _not_ an assassin. Their life is only as good as their reputation, you see, and I'm not reliable enough to survive on my reputation. Now if you'd like a soliloquy before your wedding or a bit of the old in and out, I'd be happy to oblige, otherwise stay out of my way." He took the boxes from Marik's hand and set them on Marik's chase.

"If you won't kill me for pay then I'll scream and force your hand."

"Try it. I'll take a sliver of your tongue but let you live and you can rule your kingdom as a mute king. I told you, princeling, I do not take orders, and I'm not going to let you manipulate me into killing you."

"Fine." Marik snorted, walking to a table near the window. He set two glasses down and poured dark, mulled wine into each glass. Marik poured the bottle of poison into one of the two glasses.

"Uh, I hate to tell you this, lovey, but if you want to poison me, you shouldn't pour it right in front of my glazzies."

"Simpleton, that glass is mine." Marik lifted up the glasses. "I was hoping you could ease the grief of my siblings by making my death look like murder instead of suicide, but you're too insufferable to help, so I'll have to stick with my original plan. Come, toast my death with me, thief."

The thief obeyed, walking up to Marik and taking the offered glass. Marik raised his own in a toast and the thief mirrored the gesture, but he swiped his hand sideways, knocking the crystal from Marik's hands. "Oooops, I'm terribly sorry, lovey, did I spill your wine?"

"You bastard." Marik slapped the thief.

The thief held his cheek, draining his glass with a single swallow before throwing it on the ground to shatter with its mate. "You make me sick. You sleep on a feather mattress, you've never known hunger, never known cold, never known fear, and yet you want to end your life? What's the matter? The princess they picked out for you too ugly? What problems could you possibly have?"

Marik slapped him again, the action didn't have the effect he wanted. Instead of looking wounded, the thief looked excited. Under normal circumstances Marik would be intrigued, but his anger overshadowed his other emotions. "What problems do I have? That feather bed is a cage and tonight, under the pretense of marital duty, I will be expected to rape a twelve year old girl amidst the downy pillows and silk sheets. The high priestess, who is my sister, will have to watch to verify the girl's maiden blood. You think I don't know hunger? I fuck the serving girls most known for gossip because it is expected of me to have an appetite for female flesh and I need the rumors to circulate, but every day I hunger for a different type of companion because I hate women as lovers."

Marik began to unbutton his shirt. The thief watched, silent, listening to Marik's words and watching Marik's hands. "You claim I don't know cold, but I am so cold inside I'm numb because nothing in my life is real or me, it's all an act, something you could put up on your precious stage. And fear? Fear I know most of all." He removed his shirt and turned away from the thief, showing the knife-carved history of his bloodline written on his back. "It took weeks of my own father cutting and burning this birth certificate into my flesh. There are sessions of carving, then periods of recovery, and it goes on and on until there is no more room, and each time you fear every knife-stroke. I will be forced to do the same to my own children. _That's_ why I want to die. My life has been nothing but pain, it will bring nothing but pain to others, so don't you dare judge me. Don't you ever fucking judge me again."

He sensed the thief walked up to him. Lighting two fingers on the topmost part of Marik's scars. The knife returned to his throat. The thief whispered in Marik's ear. "Alright, I'll help you. I'll end your suffering and give your siblings someone to hate in their grief."

Marik sighed, his hands were shaking from his speech. "The large box I was holding has two daggers, both sharper than what you carry. Use one of them."

He nodded and opened the ebony box. "These are nice." The thief took both daggers and ambidextrously tested them. "Good balance."

"Of course, my people have a tradition for forging some of the finest blades in the world."

"What's your name, prince?"

"Marik. What's your name, thief?"

"Bakura."

"A pleasure to meet you, Bakura."

Bakura held his new daggers and watched Marik, stepping towards him. He raised the knife, but hesitated. Marik grinned. "What's the matter? Surely you've killed before."

"In defense. This is different."

"You're strong, Bakura, just a quick pull of your arm and all my misery can end."

Bakura's arm shook. He dropped both knives and grabbed Marik's bare shoulders. Stealing a kiss. "I can't," Bakura said after the first kiss and then stole a second.

Marik always yearned to kiss another man, but never dared because between the palace spies, gossips, and political scandal-seekers, it was never a matter of if you got caught, but when. He raised his hands to Bakura's chest, loving the hard muscle that contrasted against the revolting, soft flesh of the serving girls he often took from behind so he didn't have to touch much of them. Like the two daggers they dropped to the thick rugs. Marik reached between the thief's legs, squeezing the length of his shaft, already hard. He watched Bakura's face, the way his eyelashes twittered and the way he bit his lower lip in an attempt to hide his moans. "I'm not paying for this," Marik said, remembering the thief's other occupations.

"Actually, I don't accept male clients."

"Why not?"

"It's bad to mix business with pleasure."

Marik laughed. "We're the same, you and I, aren't we?"

Bakura forced his eyes open, still panting as Marik's hand worked the thief into a quivering mess. "Would you like to be kidnapped?"

"What?"

"Why should I kill such a pretty thing with soft lips and strong hands? We could use another member in our troupe."

"We?"

"My little brother and I. You already act, you already sleep with women for business instead of pleasure. You have all the necessary requirements for a life like mine."

"Are you happy?" Marik asked, removing the clothes from Bakura's body. Marik realized that at the moment, _he_ was happy. Each piece of clothing revealed more cinnamon-colored skin wrapped tight around dense layers of muscle. Marik wanted to bury himself deep in between the thief's legs, but he was pacing himself. The anticipation made his mouth water and his phallus throb.

"I'm satisfied with my life, but it's missing something."

"What do you think it's missing?"

Bakura pulled Marik down, kissing him for a long time before breaking for air and answering, "you."

"So I'll sleep on the ground and eat rats over a campfire?"

Bakura snorted. "I don't know what you think of the West, but it's not quite that barbaric. You will sleep in a cot in our wagon and eat a lot of bread and pottage, except when you're with a client at a feast. More often than not they don't even want the in and out. Most those starry baboochkas just want a lovely pet to accompany them to a fancy ball or banquet."

"Sounds fun, traveling in a wagon. I've never left the palace grounds." Marik stripped his pants from his legs. He stood up, going to a small chest near his bed and removing a bottle of olive oil. He returned to Bakura on the rug. "Sure, why not? Kidnap me."

He oiled himself and prepared Bakura with additional oil and slick fingers. He found it more difficult to enter Bakura compared to the chamber maids, but once he'd managed to press inside it was beautiful white-gold fire burning across his nerves. Marik opened his mouth in a silent scream. His eyes rolled back in his head and he trembled.

"That's right." Bakura grinned. "Real horror show, ain't it?"

Marik had no clue what the jargon meant, but understood from context that Bakura was complimenting himself – not, however, without just cause. As Marik pulled his body away and pushed it closer, he had to agree with whatever compliment Bakura had given himself. He tried to stroke the thief as he moved, but his hand kept stopping as waves of sheer, physical rapture tingled across his body. Far too soon Marik had to let go of Bakura completely, speeding up his rhythm and cumming so hard that he felt faint. Marik collapsed on Bakura's stomach, trying to recover but still shaking.

He happened to glance up at Bakura, who watched him with a tolerant, endearing stare though clearly he was no where near satisfied. Marik set his jaw, refusing to allow that neutral expression to remain on Bakura's face when Marik felt like a man reborn. He decided to implement a trick that a particularly voracious servant girl liked to use on him. His arms still wobbled, but Marik pulled out of Bakura and slipped down between his legs, putting the thief's erection into his mouth and sucking.

"Oh shit," Bakura swore, grabbing Marik's bare shoulders again, his body hitching up.

Marik pulled away enough to ask, "have you ever done this?"

"Done it? Once or twice. Never – gotten – the curtsey – myself." Bakura's sentence broke into fragments and he reacted to Marik's tongue and mouth. "Such a pretty feeling."

Marik wanted to smile but couldn't. He let his saliva flow out of his mouth and coat Bakura's shaft to lubricate his movements. Bakura squeezed Marik's shoulders and circled his hips up and down to push himself in Marik's mouth. He started rambling a long list of names of which Marik assumed were the names of the Western gods. Marik could feel Bakura's life start to pulse through the skin of his penis, salty spikes shocked Marik's tongue as Bakura's body prepared for release.

"Marik, you might want to pull back a bit."

Marik understood what Bakura meant but would be damned if he was going to let a laundry girl outdo him. Instead of pulling back, Marik let Bakura's dick slide deeper into his throat and when the thick, hot liquid poured into his mouth he swallowed like she always did, though his instinct was to cough it out.

Now Bakura shook. "My heartbeat won't slow down."

"Let's get out of here." Marik stood up, his legs still weak. He held his hand out to help Bakura to his feet. They held onto each for balance, slow to let go.

Bakura started dressing first. "Better grab a satchel for clothes and a smaller one for any jewels or gold."

Marik nodded. He packed as much as he could without it looking too conspicuous. He strapped the scimitar and its scabbard around his waist. Bakura took the two daggers for himself. The last thing Marik did was open the rosewood box containing the wedding bangles. He stared at them, they were a gift from his sister so he didn't want to leave them behind, though he and his bride-to-be would never wear them now. Marik frowned, realizing that the smaller of the two bangles looked made to fit him, not a girl. He took the smaller band out of its box and slide it up his arm. It rested near his shoulder, a perfect fit. "Why?" Marik asked himself.

Bakura leaned over Marik's shoulder. "Nice baubles."

"A gift from my sister. They're wedding bangles. Heroes in the days of legend wore them instead of rings."

"She must be very fat," Bakura said.

Marik blinked. "What?"

"Well, if you're wearing yours, your bride must be very fat if the other one belongs to her."

"She's so frail I doubt she would have survived our first born."

"Then why is it so big?" Bakura chuckled.

Marik picked up the other band. He turned it slow in both hands. His lavender eyes looked up at Bakura. "My sister is an oracle, do you know that word?"

Bakura snorted. "Yeah, it means she likes to tell stories."

Marik shook his head. "No, perhaps others, but not her. She's never been wrong. Never in my score of years has she been wrong."

"First time for everything, I s'pose, because that bauble is the wrong size."

"No. No, I don't think so." Marik grinned. "I think she made it for you."

Bakura looked startled, a faint hint of scarlet colored his dark cheeks. "What? So now instead of being kidnapped, we're eloping?"

"Isn't that what we're doing?"

"I like kidnapped. It sounds more . . . thiefy."

Marik displayed the bangle for Bakura to take it if he wished. "It _is_ my wedding day."

Bakura smirked. "Are you proposing to me?"

Marik stepped closer, his eyes never leaving Bakura's stare. "Yes."

"Little rushy, don't you think?"

"Should have killed me when you had the chance."

Bakura slipped his arm into the jewelry, it clung to his upper bicep like another skin. "Nine hells, why not? How many have a story like this?"

"No one," Marik said.

"Except us," Bakura said.

* * *

Now, seven years later, Marik sat on a twenty pound sack of potatoes in the galley of a pirate ship with his pants around his ankles. Bakura swirled his tongue around Marik's testicles, sucking on his sack then licking in the creases of Marik's thigh. Marik held his breath when Bakura started bobbing his head up and down over his shaft. "Keep going. Yes Bakura."

Bakura gave a little purr of contentment, the vibrations tingled along Marik's shaft and he tossed his head back at the sensation. Marik tried to sit still and let Bakura work, but the closer he drew to finishing, the harder he bucked his hips until it was over and Marik was left leaning back and panting.

He pulled Bakura into his lap, kissing him and undoing his pants. Marik spat in his hand and used the saliva to lubricate Bakura's shaft as he pumped up and down. Bakura leaned against him, their hair mixing together – sunlight and starlight. Marik spat in his hand again to keep his palm moist. When Bakura climaxed, Marik dropped down to his knees to swallow the semen so they didn't have to worry about cleaning the mess.

After both finished and recovered, they left the pantry and went to the dining area. Bakura poured Bumbo for both of them and they sat at the table and nursed their rum, talking and bickering about the usual things until Ryo walked into the galley.

"Nice hair, Ryo."

"Sod off, Marik."

"Where's your dress?" Bakura asked.

"On the floor."

"Shouldn't you have it so that we can leave?"

Ryo took a mug of Bumbo and downed it, pouring himself a second and downing it as well. After his third round he sat down. Marik raised an eyebrow, Ryo was a notorious drinker, but there was a difference between slamming mugs of beer and slamming mugs of rum. "Are you okay?"

Ryo nodded, staring at the grainy surface of the table. "About leaving. Well, first about the dress. It won't be good for much other than darning scrap, I'm afraid."

"Damn-it, that was your best dress. You're making up the money to replace it."

Ryo scratched the back of his head. "Or, we could go on account and not have to worry about costumes for a bit."

Bakura's face twisted in confusion. "Go on account? Did you hit your head?"

"He has a map that shows the location of a treasure so grand that we could open up our own theater. Wouldn't that be horror show? No more wagon rides or having to split profit. Hells, we could charge other troupes."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Yes and dance with nymphs and dryads as we skip towards magical fairy treasure. Bolshy yarbles, Ryo."

"Marik, he told me to show you this." Ryo displayed a golden trinket in the shape of a sun.

Marik studied the bauble. "We have one God, but the tribes that lived in the East before us served many. The kings of those days before record were buried in great tombs on islands near my country. Tomb robbers ransacked everything of value, but there's always that one wet-nurse tale, isn't there? The tomb belonging to the greatest of the kings somehow doesn't get found, rumors circulate, legends arise, fake maps get sold to drunk pirates."

"He thought you'd be more impressed."

"That is the symbol of the old sun god. I've only seen drawings. It is impressive, and that particular amulet has directions. Honestly, I think he just handed you his map."

Bakura turned to Marik. "Wait, you think this might be real?"

"Yes, actually. This time, it might be real." Marik frowned. "But Ryo, I don't think it's a good idea to get attached to that man. Did you notice he kept his shirt on?"

Ryo glared at Marik. "Am I seven? Yes he kept his shirt on because he was a priest and did not want me to see his scars."

Marik winced. "Then it's worse than I feared. Ryo, when nobility runs away nothing is done. Each opening in the line to the throne or an estate is opportunity for others, but the priests are dedicated. If one absconds, they are hunted down. No one has ever escaped."

"I'm sure he's capable of fending for himself, Marik."

"I'm sure he is or he would have never escaped initially, but one day he will be reclaimed. When that happens he'll be forced to endure the Trial."

Ryo drank from his cup, his hands shaking. "Trial? What is that?"

"I have my bloodline's history on my back – he has vows made to God. When a priest is brought back to the church, they have to drink a potion. If they've kept their vows then nothing happens and they return to their duties."

"And if a vow is broken?"

"They go into a death-like sleep and are taken to a place of shame. Their bodies remain all but dead, but their minds stay alive. I've only heard vague accounts from my sister, but she says what eventually kills them is horror from the dreams they endure. Years of pain and horror trapped in your own mind and unable to wake until your heart gives out. That's why you shouldn't get fond of him, Ryo. He will die."

Ryo finished his drink. "Abstinence is one of the vows, isn't it?"

"Yes."

Ryo stood up. "Then it'll be my fault. Gods, it's like I ruin everything that gets near me, and all he wanted was for me to stay the night. I have to go." Ryo stormed out of the galley.

His brother jumped up from the table and blocked his path. "Whoa, whoa, don't give yourself a guilt-trip. He's a pirate. He's probably broken every sodding vow on his back."

"I don't think so. Move, Bakura."

"No. We're going home."

"We don't have a home. We have a wagon."

"That's home, Ryo, and we're going back there."

Ryo looked up at him, green glazzies lit like glass wine bottles shining near firelight. "I'm staying here tonight." He removed the gold amulet and handed it to Bakura. "You like good stories, don't you? Think of it. A rag-tag troupe finding legendary treasure – we could make that tale a play that folk would pay to see. I'm going to sleep now and in the morning I'm going to ask for that trinket back. It will be up to you and Marik if you go on account or go on the road."

Bakura took the bauble. "And if the next lot that busts into your bedroom time takes him away for good? What are you going to do?"

Ryo averted his glazzies. "Kill them."

"Not very convincing from the malchick that's never killed anyone before in his life."

"Bakura, I need to go to him right now."

Bakura sighed. "Go. I'll yell at you in the morning."


	4. Chapter 4

*****I should probably be reading these chapters before I post them. I don't remember what's in them, lol.*****

* * *

Chapter 4

Ryo walked down the hall towards Kek's chamber. He saw Kek standing in the door frame, waiting for Ryo. Without thinking Ryo started running and running until he was jumping and Kek caught him and kissed him. Ryo pressed his forehead against Kek's, asking, "how many vows have you broken?"

"One."

"Tonight?"

"Yes."

"Why? Why waste that on me?"

"No one's evaded the Hunters as long as I have. I fled nineteen years ago, when I was eleven, but I've been living by the vows on my back that entire time. You helped me realize something tonight. What's the point escaping if I'm still trapped in all their rules? So I did something selfish. A long time ago, a priestess foretold that in about a year I'll be captured – I wanted to experience something good before I slept."

"If they come near you I'll gut them."

"Don't get blood on your hands. They're too white for that."

"They're my hands." Ryo looked at Kek. "I'll drench my entire body in bile and krovvy if they try to take you."

"I'll keep running."

"Do you need a galley cook?"

"Actually, yes, last one got the fever. We've been rotating. It's been a disaster."

"Then I'm your man."

A small smile upturned Kek's lips. "Does this mean you're spending the night?"

"Yes. I wish I could do more for you."

"There is nothing else I want of you."

Ryo choked back a sob. His entire chest felt like a piece of glass just cooled from the blower's fire then dropped and shattered against the stone floor, and he wondered if that's what love felt like. Kek carried him back into the room, blowing out the lantern on his way back to the bed. Under the covers, he pulled Ryo's pants off and dropped them back on the floor. He also removed his shirt, snuggling close to Ryo so their exposed bodies touched.

"Are you sure?" Ryo asked when he felt the sinew of Kek's bare shoulders.

"Please," Kek answered.

Ryo exhaled, wrapping his arms full around Kek's mangled back.

Kek sighed. "Even one night with you makes me feel like I could survive any potion-induced spell and know only dreams instead of night horrors."

"Why do you like me so much? I don't understand."

Kek brushed Ryo's cheek in the dark. "Because you're real and everyone else I've ever met has been nothing more than a fable creature."

Ryo snorted. "Usually I'm the one being accused of being a fey, a djinn, or a demon."

"Or a unicorn, I hear they have a way of finding virgins."

"I forgot to ask, what's her name?"

"The ship? _La Muerta._ "

* * *

Ryo and Kek talked late into the night. Ryo didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until something hard clicked against his face and woke him. "Ow." Ryo rubbed his face and groaned.

"It's 9 o'clock. You should be awake by now."

"Bakura?"

"So I'm often called, although sometimes Marik likes to call me god."

"Bakura shut up and stick to business," Marik said.

Ryo opened his glazzies. He still lay in bed tangled up with Kek's limbs. What hit him in the face was a heavy, leather wallet filled with gold coin and paper cutter. Bakura also dropped the amulet on Ryo's head. "Bakura, I'm still asleep. Why did you just assault me with a wallet of pretty polly?"

"That's your cut. We sold the wagon and the oxen and most the props."

Ryo sat up with a start. "What?"

"Well, we're not taking the oxen with us, we'd end up eating them."

"Wait, does that mean?"

Marik gestured to the pirate sleeping beside Ryo. "Wake up your lover, we have business to discuss."

Ryo felt himself blush when Marik called Kek his lover. "His name's Kek," Ryo muttered as he shook Kek's shoulder.

Kek brushed Ryo's hand away and nuzzled harder into his pillow. Ryo reached out and petted his disheveled hair. "Oi, get up, lovey."

Kek rolled toward Ryo, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in Ryo's chest, still asleep.

Bakura grunted and pulled the pillow out from behind Ryo. He used it to assault the back of Kek's head. The pirate rubbed the back of his head, blinking his glazzies awake at a sluggish, stubborn pace. He made a muffled, protesting noise.

Ryo smiled, he couldn't stop his mouth from turning up, the image was too endearing. He wanted to kiss Kek awake, but wouldn't with his brother and Marik standing above them with a scheme in their minds. Instead, Ryo just shook Kek's shoulder again.

"What?" he asked.

"This is what." Marik flicked his pointer finger against the golden surface of Ryo's charm, asking, "you know who I am, right?"

Kek grunted in acknowledgment at the prince.

"And since luck brought our paths together just after you acquired this amulet, you're wondering if I know a route to the Burial Islands that's less patrolled."

"Thought crossed my mind after seeing you."

"I know a way without any patrols. A canal that runs across the Hook, but it's shallow."

"Already have the fittings to make a barge. I knew a passage existed, just not where."

"So here's what I'm proposing." Marik crossed his arms over his chest as he spoke. "Bakura and I have no intentions of going on account. However, if you'd like to hire us as guides through the Hook, then our terms would be one and a quarter share each of total profit collected and our own room away from the crew quarters."

Kek answered with a single nod.

"When do we set out?"

"Tomorrow."

Bakura bowed and they both turned to leave. "Then if you excuse us, we'll be at the inn enjoying our last hot bath."

"Wait." Ryo called out, slipping out of bed and putting his borrowed pants on quick to cover himself.

Marik pointed to a chest near the bed as they left the room. "We brought your things."

Ryo ignored the chest and went out into the hallway. "I just wanted to say thank you."

Bakura rested his right hand on his hip, turning over his shoulder to stare at his brother. "Oh, thank us three months out to sea when you haven't had a proper wash and your pretty hands are cracked and bleeding from work."

"Besides." Marik winked at him. "You don't need to thank us. We just want the treasure. We are getting a little older. Those baboochkas who fawn over now will get disinterested eventually, better to start on our retirement plan."

"I like the idea of my own theater." Bakura grinned.

Ryo smiled, knowing them too well to fall for their indifferent act. "Yeah, I know you just want all that pretty polly, but I still want to say thank you. This means a lot to me."

* * *

Kek and Ryo dressed and cleaned their teeth. Thanks to the chest Bakura and Marik brought, Ryo was able to put on clothes proper for his gender that also fit.

"You look much better in that." Kek teased him, gesturing to the shirt and waistcoat Ryo wore.

"Well, I don't enjoy dressing up like a pair of tits. It's just my luck to get stuck with all the princess roles because I'm slight and my hair is long." Ryo combed his hair and tied the top half with a hide strap instead last night's, blue ribbon.

Kek stepped up and slipped his finger through Ryo's combed hair. "May, may I kiss you?"

Ryo felt his cheeks burn, once again. He wanted to get through a conversation with Kek without feeling hot-cheeked and weak-kneed. "You don't have to ask anymore."

Kek brushed his fingers against Ryo's bottom lip. "Did you know, that when you blush, your lips get red with your cheeks?"

Ryo tried to turn away, but Kek caught his face with his other hand and kissed him. Ryo reached around Kek, squeezing his ass with both hands. Kek cried out in surprise and Ryo grinned, content with his revenge. He went for Kek's throat, feeling Kek's pulse below his tongue. Kek squirmed against Ryo's chest and started to pant. Ryo squeezed his ass again and Kek bucked into him. Ryo looked up at him. "Can I have a tour of the ship?"

Kek nodded, licking his lips and wiping his brow with the back of his hand. He straightened his shirt and readjusted his pants before leading Ryo through the ship. Most of the areas below deck were for storage. They ended in the galley. He showed Ryo the pantry first, shelves lined the walls burdened with sacks and barrels of flour, dried beans, lentils, split peas, salt, sun-dried tomatoes, and dried apricots. In a side area hung sacks of salted and smoked beef and pork. Another niche held butter and hard cheeses.

"Here's the produce, but it doesn't keep so we eat that first and there's less of it."

Ryo nodded. The went to the galley proper, Ryo examined the large hearth. Ryo smiled. "It's better than the camp fire and spits I'm used to."

"You won't say that when the fire's going and you can't stop sweating."

Ryo's glazzies bulged when he saw the spice rack. "Gods." He picked up several labeled containers, opening them and inhaling their contents. Cinnamon, cardamon, saffron, sweet basil, rosemary, tarragon, fenugreek, Ryo closed his glazzies as he breathed in the fragrance of each new herb.

"There are some advantages of raiding cargo ships." Kek smiled. "And the herbs are necessary to hide the flavor of the meat when it starts to turn."

"I'm sure such long trips are horrible," Ryo said, still smelling the cinnamon, "but right now I can't imagine it being horrible. I've only ever tasted some of these, and only then as a paid escort at dinner parties."

"Here, try this." Kek went to a shelf and brought back a long sliver of an sugar-coated, red-orange, dried fruit.

"What is it?"

"Papaya. It's easier to get dried apricots, but during our last voyage we commandeered some of these. Taste of it."

He held up the fruit for Ryo to take. He leaned forward and took a timid bite. A small moan escaped his closed mouth as he chewed. "That's really good."

Kek smiled. Ryo leaned over to take another bite and Kek moved at the same time so that they each had half the strip in their mouth. He used the position to steal a kiss, the papaya serving as a bridge for his tongue to cross into Ryo's mouth. Ryo's heart fluttered high in his throat from the mixed sensations of taste and texture. Before he realized what he was doing, he had Kek pushed down on a stool as he continued to kiss him – the papaya a sweet memory clinging to their tongues. Ryo hiked his right leg over Kek's lap to he half sat, half stood. They pulled at the collars of their shirts. Kek reached for Ryo's belt.

Ryo stopped Kek's hand. "Wait, I haven't had a chance to properly clean up, yet."

"You're fine." Kek ignored Ryo and continued with the belt, folding it and setting it aside on the prep table to his left.

"I feel self-conscious."

A crooked grin decorated Kek's tanned face. "It's a few months too early for that."

Ryo remembered Bakura and Marik's comment about their last hot bath. Still, Ryo felt bashful as Kek removed both their waistcoats and folded them besides Ryo's belt. He pulled back from their kisses, sliding out of Kek's lap. "Aren't you worried one of the crew will return?"

Kek gave Ryo a soft chuckle. "They'll be at the nearest brothel until the last possible moment. I've had to go and fetch them before."

"Don't they think it strange? That you never join them?"

"No, I went on account when I was eleven and inherited this ship from the previous captain. Most of these men have known each other for the better part of our lives. They've never seen my back, but they know where I came from."

"Will there be a problem? When they realize I'm sleeping in your cabin?"

"I'm sure there will be jokes, but they'll hold their protests. Only once did a crew member ever verbally challenge me, and I took his tongue then nailed it to the the foremast."

"Is that a story you tell to scare people or something you actually did?"

Kek's expression grew sombre. "If you don't have respect you have mutiny, and when you've vowed never to take a life it's more challenging to keep respect on a ship."

Ryo nodded. "I'm glad there won't be problems. I can take care of myself, but, as you've seen, Bakura never gives me the chance, and he's taken no vows."

Kek leaned back, bracing his arm on the prep table. "I always thought siblings would be a nice thing to have. Someone to watch your six."

"Are you an only child?"

"Who knows? I was abandoned at the temple so I never knew my family."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It doesn't bother me anymore. I was angry in my youth, but time has mellowed me."

"Certainly not in the bedroom, it hasn't." Ryo winked at him and felt victorious when he noticed their was a blush on Kek's cheeks this time.

They forgot about their conversation, unbuttoning their shirts and making out until their lips burned with the friction. They folded their shirts and pants and set them on the table with the other clothing. The blended oil still in Kek's room, they used olive oil for lubrication. Ryo repositioned his leg so that it hooked around Kek. He used his left leg for balance. He slid down on Kek's length, his legs felt a little odd, but the angel on which he sat felt thrilling so Ryo stayed half standing and straddled over Kek's lap. Kek grabbed Ryo's ass to support him and Ryo held onto Kek's back. He didn't protest Ryo's hands against his scars, only grunted and gasped as Ryo moved.

Ryo smiled. "The view is better this time."

"Hmmm?" Kek asked with a sound instead of a verbal question.

"Your chest is too broad to hide under a shirt, and your skin is too much like honey, and your muscles are too much like sculpted bronze."

Kek flushed, his pants became light and quick. "Maybe you should be a poet instead of a pirate."

"If I wrote you a sonnet or ballad, would you read it?"

"I would," Kek confessed, "and keep it in a drawer. And if it held the scent of your cologne, I'd take it out when you were away and smell of it."

"Then I'll write something for you."

Kek leaned against Ryo's body. "I'm so glad you're here."

Ryo swung his other leg up and around Kek. One arm continued to hold Kek, the other reached back and grabbed Kek's thigh for balance. Kek filled his palm with olive oil and massaged the oil into the skin of Ryo's shaft and tip. They pressed their foreheads together and moved their hips, the ship creaking around them. Ryo leaned back, both hands now on Kek's thighs so he could press his ass low and hard against Kek's cock while bucking his own phallus into Kek's hands.

Kek closed his glazzies, his mouth slack. "It was worth . . . waiting for you."

"Lovey," Ryo whispered. "I'm going to – oh yes."

He felt himself pour out. He trembled, his grip on Kek's thighs grew weak. Although he felt spent from orgasm, Ryo still rocked himself up and down over Kek's body. Kek brought his own hand to his lips, glazzies trained on Ryo as he licked the semen away from his hand and wrist. Ryo had myriad past lovers, but couldn't remember seeing anything more erotic than the look in Kek's eyes while his tongue worked. Ryo reached forward and kissed Kek. He grabbed Ryo's ass with both hands and encouraged him to move faster.

The oil was absorbing into their skins, but Ryo kept moving until Kek cried out and filled him. He dropped in Kek's lap, exhausted and leaning against him. Kek looked at Ryo. "Is it always this good?"

"I don't know. It's never been this good for me."

"Is it better because I'm in love with you?"

Ryo almost fell off the stool. Perhaps he almost jumped off the chair in order to escape Kek's words. "You can't. That's, it's absurd. You're just high from the sex."

Kek raised an eyebrow. "Are you a bottle of Drought?"

"No, I'm just a stupid actor. Nothing fancy. Nothing special enough to fall in love with."

"And with whom, exactly, should someone who's both a heretic and a pirate fall in love?"

"Anyone but me."

"Ryo, I love whom I love." He held Ryo's chin so Ryo couldn't look away. "You don't have to feel the same way."

"No, it's not that. I don't even know what love feels like."

"It feels like standing up after sitting on your limb too long. A stabbing feeling, but also a great relief as life flows back into a part of you that you hadn't realized had gone numb."

Ryo trembled. He closed his glazzies since Kek still held his chin. "Oh yarbles, I think I love you and this feeling horrifies me."

"Because I'm going to be captured and taken away?"

"No. It's not that, because I refuse to allow them to capture you."

Kek let go of Ryo's face. Ryo opened his glazzies to see Kek looking away, his face flushed. "Who would have ever thought," Kek asked, "that a reject like me would have a hero wanting to protect him?"

"I'm no hero. I don't even get to act the part of hero in the plays. If anything, I'm just the princess that gets locked away."

"But you swear you won't let me be taken. That makes you _my_ hero."

This time Ryo took Kek's face in his hands so he could study his jewel-like eyes. "Okay. I'm _your_ hero. I'll spend the rest of my life protecting you."

"And I'll spend the rest of my life loving you."

Ryo lighted his lips soft on top of Kek's mouth. After his kissed Kek's mouth, he kissed his nose. "I'm sorry. I don't have bangles like my brother and Marik use."

"The nomads have a strange custom that doesn't need tokens, but it requires you cut your palm."

Ryo smiled and held out his hand.

Kek took Ryo's hand, kissing the life and love lines creasing the skin. He reached behind him and took a bottle of rum off one of the shelves near the hearth; he reached beside him and grabbed a dagger from his vest on the table. Kek dabbed rum on both their left hands. He drew cuts on the skin, causing the red krovvy to bead and swell in their palms. He pressed their hands together, lacing their fingers in place.

"This binds us," he explained. "The nomads see blood as life, it continuously leaves and returns to the heart. It's also connected to our breath which the nomads view as the soul. This ceremony represents our lives mixing together through our hearts and our souls."

Ryo squeezed their hands tighter together. "Maybe you should be the poet. I've seemed to have lost all my words."

"Let's find a bathhouse so you're not self-conscious tonight when we celebrate."


	5. Chapter 5

*****AN: I remember the Deathshipping in this fic can be adorable, but I forget how adorable the Citronshipping in this fic can be, and I'm glad. Even if it's in my own imagination, I'm glad there is a universe where they get drunk at the pub, dance, brawl, and then get cutsey in bed because they've been married for too long to care anymore.*****

* * *

Chapter 5

After bandaging their cuts they went to town. They bathed and wandered through the market, watching street performers and listening to gossip and examining linens and baubles displayed in the stalls. Kek bought a bottle of mead imported from the North, and chocolates, and grapes, and yeast-bread, and herb-crusted goat cheese. They had a make-shift dinner in the crow's nest of risen bread and salami and cheese and dark greens because they knew that they'd miss the vegetables when out to sea for months. For dessert, they took turns pushing chocolates into one another's mouths, laughing in between bites.

Above them, the setting sun painted the sky in shades of ocher and citrus. The clouds spread out into the horizon like dark purple feathers scattered and stuck to the wet paint and canvas. After eating, Ryo leaned back in Kek's arms and allowed himself to be held – a luxury he hadn't permitted himself to experience since childhood. Kek's fingers combed through Ryo's hair, his other hand warm and firm against Ryo's chest. They watched the sky fade to indigo and saw stars peek through the gaps between the clouds.

"Did you know there are stories in the stars?"

"Marik told one about a princess being carried across the sky in her palanquin, but that was the only one he remembered."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryo saw Kek's hand point up. "See that cluster there?"

"Yes."

"That's the Hunter. See his bow there?"

"Yes. I can see it. What does he hunt?"

"See that group of stars?"

"Yes." Ryo scrunched his eyes at the sky. "A stag?"

"Close, an antelope."

"What's an antelope, lovey?"

"They live in my home country. They're like a stag, but their horns are straight and their coloring is different."

"Do you see a lot of different countries sailing?" Ryo shifted in Kek's lap so he could look at his face.

Kek nodded. "I love the North the most. It's cold, and you have to wear furs, but they sit in giant halls with open fire pits and hearths and drink and brag about their adventures and their hunts. Great beasts live in the North; wolves the size of horses, hags that are part crone and part vulture, both drakes and larger dragons. The men are pale like you, but their hair is fiery or flaxen and they have long beards that they braid with silk ribbons and jewel beads. I also like the South. It's so hot that you only wear a cloth around your waist, even the women. Their skin is like polished jet and their hair is stiff, like mine, only short and dark and curled. The food is so spicy that it burns your mouth until tears well in your eyes, but you eat more because it's delicious, and their music is rapid and wild and they dance to it like possessed, and you do to, without meaning to. They say it's the influence of the ancestors."

"I want to go see these places with you one day."

"After we get this treasure, we'll have enough funds to sail anywhere we'd like. We'll stay until we get bored and then we'll sail somewhere new."

Ryo looked out of the crow's nest and at the city. "If Marik and my brother do open their own Theater, could we visit them in between our voyages?"

"Of course, and stay as long as you'd like."

"Your crew won't agree to that."

Kek shrugged. "After this journey I'm going to give the ship to the crew and buy a smaller vessel. Originally, it was my plan to evade my pursuers for a little longer, but now I want something that will give us more privacy." He winked at Ryo.

Ryo smiled. "Speaking of privacy. Why don't we go below deck?"

"Yes, you have to taste the Northern wine I purchased. This bottle is a strong brew. Can you hold your liquor?"

Ryo laughed as he stood and climbed down the rope ladder. "I can manage a single bottle shared with you."

Kek peeked down at Ryo. "You're underestimating these spirits."

"I think I'll surprise you. Hurry, you shouldn't make a man wait to drink."

In Kek's cabin, they sat on his bed, their shirts off and their belts gone for comfort. Kek opened the bottle. "I forgot glasses."

"Glasses. That's cute, lovey." Ryo swiped the bottle from Kek's hand and drank straight from it. Ryo licked his lips and passed the bottle. "It's real horror show. It still tastes like honey."

Kek stared at Ryo with a surprised expression. "Maybe you shouldn't drink it that fast." He took a modest sip from the bottle.

"You're going to have to do better than that or I'll have the bottle gone before you get a glass worth."

"If I drink it fast I will not be able to stand."

"Well enough, we only need to be on our backs tonight."

Kek chuckled and took a deeper swallow from the bottle, still about half of Ryo's drink. "Know why it's called a honeymoon?"

He passed the bottle and Ryo drank again, the bottle down a quarter. "Why?"

"In the North, the bride and groom celebrate by drinking honey wine for a month. A milder version than this." Kek's face grew determined. He tilted his head back and took several chugs in succession until he matched Ryo.

"Ah, that's how you drink!"

Kek handed Ryo the bottle. "But I can already feel my head swimming."

Ryo brought the bottle to half. "Really? Maybe you should slow down,then. I don't want you too inebriated tonight." He took another drink.

Kek reached over and touched Ryo's cheek. "Don't you feel light-headed yet?"

Ryo leaned closer. "I feel warm and pleasant, but I always feel that way around you." He took a third drink before passing the bottle to Kek.

He stared at the blue glass, back to Ryo, and then back to the bottle. He took another long drink, half of what was left, and then gave the bottle to Ryo who finished the mead. "That was good. I can't wait to drink this in the halls of the great hunters you told me about from the North."

"They will like you. You might be able to out drink some of their champions."

Ryo set the bottle on the floor and grabbed Kek for a hard kiss. He licked Kek's lips, pulling back and sighing. "Your mouth tastes of honey and wine."

"Yours, too." Kek grinned wider than usual, making his face slightly deranged. His cheeks glowed with the strength of the spirits, but he was still lucid. "Kiss me again."

"As you wish." This time Ryo's kiss was gentle. He rubbed Kek's shoulders as their mouths kneaded together.

Kek pulled back to stare at Ryo. "Your eyes are green like the ocean and your hair looks like foam from the waves. I swear you're a unicorn risen from the sea."

"Risen from the sea to protect you." Ryo kissed him again. "To love you."

Kek leaned back, Ryo lay on top of him as they kissed and pressed together. They removed each other's pants. Ryo rubbed against Kek, hips rotating and biceps flexed.

A soft moan pulled itself from Kek's mouth. He stammered, having trouble saying his next sentence, cheeks red from both mead and shyness. "I, um, I want you to – would you do, you know, what I used to do, before I met you, you know?"

Ryo giggled. He licked his first two fingers and teased Kek's entrance. "You mean this?"

Kek screwed his glazzies shut, fisting Ryo's hair and calling out. "Yes. Yes! That, please."

Ryo purred at the sound of Kek's voice. "Let me get your oil."

"Hurry."

Ryo bolted to the hidden niche at the head of Kek's bed. He stole the clay jar and used the fragrant oil to make Kek's entrance as slick as possible. His fingers slid in easy and Kek's dick twitched as Ryo curved his fingers up and massaged the swollen mound of nerves that he knew Kek wanted him to touch.

Kek pulled at Ryo's hair or grabbed Ryo's shoulders or used one hand for his hair while the other squeezed his bicep. Kek couldn't keep his hands still as he squirmed on the bed, moaning at Ryo's touch. Ryo bent down, tasting the soft skin of his lover's erection. Kek bucked into his mouth, slamming his length deep into Ryo's throat. Ryo braced a hand on Kek's stomach to subdue him, but it didn't help. Kek's cries and groans strung together like a necklace of pearls. The sounds, plus Kek's wild bucking, aroused Ryo as if lightning dance across the surface of his skin and teased the nerves beneath. He could feel Kek's pulse on his tongue as Kek's heart sped up quick and hard. Kek thrust himself into Ryo's mouth one last time, pulling Ryo's hair enough to hurt as he poured hot against Ryo's tongue. Ryo swallowed and pulled his fingers away.

"Don't stop," Kek begged.

Ryo blinked at him, wondering why Kek would want him to continue after ejaculating.

Kek kept his face turned, his hair a mess against the sheets. "Please, keep going. I-I can go longer."

Ryo smiled, licking Kek's tip and reinserting his fingers. Ryo expected Kek's erection to fade, but as he continued to suck Kek's member into the back of his mouth, it remained stiff. Kek's cries were softer but they still drawled throughout the cabin. After a few minutes he crunched up, petting the back of Ryo's head. "Um, you said you liked it both ways, right?"

Ryo looked up at Kek. He did like it both ways, but his male lovers rarely permitted him the pleasure. Ryo's mouth lifted above Kek's erection and his fingers stopped moving as he looked at Kek's eyes. Kek breathed hard, face flushed, eye begging Ryo to take him. Ryo slipped his fingers out and kissed up Kek's hard, sculpted belly and to his chest. He teased Kek's nipples, biting them hard with his teeth as his hand gently fondled Kek's phallus.

Ryo's free hand fumbled for the clay jar, using the oil inside to coat his own erection. A sharp jolt of pleasure tripped across his body when he entered Kek. His asshole wrapped tight around Ryo's base, everything above warm and clinging, and as Ryo moved in and out that barrier of muscle held tight and Ryo could only roll his eyes into the back of his head as his mind disappeared into the physical sensation. He heard Kek's enraptured moaned like one hears their spouse's voice calling to them in the morning when they're still lost in their own dreams.

* * *

Bakura and Marik sat at a splintered table of pin-oak beneath a kerosene lantern. Their arms slung around their shoulders as they laughed, open mirth lit up their faces as fat tears welled in the creases around their eyes. They were better suited for bitter smirks and vicious grins and sardonic commentary, happiness (at least displayed in the open for all to see) served as a liability, like wearing one's wallet on the outside of their garb; however, unlike the pub they escaped from the night before, the inn had a cozy atmosphere that stripped one's guard bare. They drank stout, rich, cold, and bittersweet with a thick foam cap, and the music was pleasant. They'd lost their stage masks of indifference among the lutes and fifes and drums and the young girl with a glass-clear soprano voice that hadn't yet matured.

The musicians began playing _The Old Dun Cow_ , and Marik smacked Bakura's shoulder. "Let's dance."

"Are you barmy? We can't dance in public. I'm not letting you drink anymore beer."

Marik responded by stealing Bakura's beer and finishing it. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"You know if we dance it will only end in us brawling every other malchick in this room."

"And you know that's part of the dance." Marik scooted closer to Bakura. "Come on. You know you want to. Hurry, before the song is over."

Bakura sighed. "One of these days, I swear, I'll learn how to say no to you."

"When that day comes, even I'll congratulate you." He grabbed Bakura's hands and guided him near the band where there was room for dancing.

They were performers so they knew how to dance and how to entertain. They didn't simply move with their feet, they flipped and cartwheeled and leapt onto the table tops. The musicians played upbeat songs to accommodate them and the serving devotchkas paused to watch, whistling and being able to be the ones to catcall, and neither Bakura nor Marik minded the lewd jokes because serving wenches had it much worse than actors when it came to after hours and both men thought it proper to let the ladies have their fun.

The merriment continued until one patron started muttering about how fairies should only dance in their grotto. Bakura, feeling generous, decided to ignore the comment, but when he saw the bastard stick a boot out, trying to trip Marik, the spark sizzling on Bakura's short fuse reached the keg of powder. He danced his way to the table, the grin on his face slipping from one of joy to his more appropriate, devil's smirk.

He bowed near the offending malchick, stealing the bloke's dagger as he did so, and when he raised back up, he planted the dagger in the man's dirty, greasy hand, pinning it to the table. The bastard howled and bawled and the musicians ignored him because he heckled them throughout the night, and the serving devotchkas ignored him because the greasy hand, now harmless as krovvy bubbled from around the knife and pooled across the table, had pinched their asses and ran up their petticoats throughout the night. All might have continued smooth and cheerful had it not been for the bastard's constituent sitting with him at the table. He sprung up and punched Bakura in the face. Bakura could have dodged, even drunk, but thought it more fun to take the blow and feint a tumble on the floor.

Marik kicked the second man's nose, red, red krovvy exploding across the chap's face as he wheeled back. The first bastard freed himself from the table and charged Marik with his dagger. Bakura flipped up at that moment, hitting the bastard's gut and then clipping his chin with a calculated elbow. The blows sent the bastard spiraling into another table, drinks spilling over patrons' laps. They added themselves to the fight and soon a proper brawl drowned the little drinking hall in chaos.

After they had their fill of punches and kicks, but before order restored itself and a tab of damage could be written, Marik grabbed Bakura by the arm and they snuck upstairs to their room. Still drunk and still laughing. Behind the closed door of their suite, Marik kissed Bakura, pulling at his waistcoat. "That was a good dance, wouldn't you agree?"

"We'll die at the gallows one of these days."

"And they will never stop singing about the trouble we caused."

They didn't quite reach the bed. They fell to the floorboards, tearing the clothing from their bodies and grabbing greedy fistfuls of exposed flesh. When naked, Marik crawled onto the bed and pulled Bakura up with him. "How do you want it tonight?"

"Drunken and sloppy?"

Marik gave Bakura a soft bite on his bottom lip to reprimand him for his statement. "I'm not _that_ drunk. Maybe a little, though."

Bakura worked his palms across Marik's chest. "I'm drunk. Too drunk to think about positions. I want them all."

Marik soothed the bitten area of Bakura's lip with his tongue, giving it slow, thoughtful licks. "Always greedy, my thief, perhaps I shall give them all to you."

Bakura grinned. "I think you have, at one night or another over the years."

"Then we'll start from the beginning and go through them again – just in case we missed one."

"I like that idea." Bakura dropped his caresses to the inside of Marik's thighs. "Looking forward to the next seven years."

Marik snatched a glass bottle from beside the bed. He poured the golden oil on himself and on Bakura. Bakura felt Marik opening his body up, making sure he was slippery with oil before entering him. They lay on their sides facing each other, Marik lower and angled between Bakura's legs. Bakura propped his body up on a forearm, the fingernails of his other hand digging into Marik's thigh as he braced himself for each new thrust.

Bakura felt the heat rise up from his groin. His lower muscles clenched and sent brief but intense shivers up Bakura's spine. He sighed, and then held his breath, praying to the gods that it'd last forever though he knew if lovemaking were as consistent as breathing then it'd have no charm. Too soon the spasms in his spine grew in intensity and branched out to his stomach and yarbles. He gripped himself and used the blade of his calloused palm to stroke himself to completion, spilling his seed on the hideous, brown, wool blanket covering their rented bed.

Marik shifted so that he straddled Bakura's bottom leg, Bakura's top leg hooked around Marik's waist. He worked his hips back and forth, an arm wrapped around Bakura's top leg for stability. "Bakura." Marik shut his eyes, the muscles in his face tightening as he drew close. "Do you want me to cum?"

Bakura lowered his voice to a thick, husky whisper, giving his lower muscles a squeeze for punctuation. "Yes, my prince."

"Then I will for you, my thief."

He continued pumping his lower body. Bakura panted with the movements that still felt pleasant though he'd finished. Marik made soft grunts, his chest muscles taut like harp-string. He held his breath and shivered and moaned and then dropped to the bed so that he lay next to Bakura.

Bakura smiled, holding Marik and tracing his fingers along Marik's bangle.

"This is my favorite part," Marik whispered.

"Mine, too," Bakura confessed before hiding his face in Marik's hair and drifting to sleep in Marik's arms.

* * *

Ryo had Kek's ankles propped against his shoulders. He bent forward, driving his body into Kek's. Kek dug his fingers into the blanket and screamed, his usual calm, stoic demeanor lost to the moment. He stroked himself with quick, dry slides of his palm and fingers, the _shuff-shuff-shuff_ of his skin matched their heavy pants, the creaking springs of the bed and the groaning boards of the ship.

Ryo felt Kek's ankles dig deeper into his shoulders as Kek raised his body up higher. "Shit." Kek swore as semen spotted his stomach.

Ryo made a soft, pleased sound, something like a sigh and a purr mixed together. He'd seen many a seasoned, starry baboochka top off twice at a go, but never a personal lover and it made Ryo happy. He set Kek's legs down and bent forward, licking the semen from his stomach so it didn't stain the sheets later. He watched Kek while he did it, hoping he looked as sexy as Kek did when he'd given Ryo the same courtesy the last time they were together. Ryo arched his back and continued. Kek held Ryo's hips, his purple stare washing over Ryo's white body gleaming with sweat in the lantern light.

He smiled, sweat beading around his temples and rolling down his cheeks. "I'm so glad you stayed."

"I'm so glad you kidnapped me." Ryo kissed his neck. Kek wrapped his arms and legs around Ryo's back, holding him close, and that's how Ryo came – wrapped up in Kek's limbs. After he finished, he settled down on top of Kek who continued to hold on with his arms. They fell asleep before they could manage to wish each other goodnight.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

In the morning, Ryo woke early so he could sneak to town for a last bath before the ship departed. Once in the galley, Ryo tied a cobalt blue bandana around his forehead (well, it was a sash from an old costume, but he liked the color and preferred it as a bandana). Next, he braided his long hair to keep it out of his face and the food. _La Muerta's_ crew consisted of eighteen, including Kek. Bakura, Marik, and Ryo brought the number to twenty-one mouths to keep Ryo busy. He set up a plowman's lunch, determined not to let a single vegetable go to waste during their voyage.

Bakura walked into the galley, a smirk on his face. "You missed one hell of a brawl last night."

"That you, no doubt, started."

"Marik wanted to dance."

Ryo smiled and nodded as he sliced thin layers of smoked beef from a larger brisket. "Oh, almost forget. I have a present for you." Ryo set down his knife and reached into a small cupboard that Ryo claimed as his personal cubby. He took a small jar and placed it in Bakura's hand.

"What's this?"

"Something Kek mixed up. Make it last and don't bother me for another jar in three months when you and Marik inevitably squander it."

Bakura unscrewed the jar and sniffed the thick, cloudy oil. "Do you eat it?"

"That would be a waste. You use it like olive oil."

"Oh." Bakura screwed the lid back on the clay jar as if the oil inside was something not to show in public. "Does it work better?"

"And exactly how would you like me to answer that question, dear brother?"

Bakura snorted at Ryo's facetious humor. "A yes or no would suffice."

Ryo returned to his prep work. "It's amazingly horror show."

Bakura's grin raised his lips higher on his face as he pocketed the jar. He noticed Ryo's left hand wrapped with hide strips. He grabbed Ryo's wrist. "Honestly, can you not handle being in a kitchen without cutting yourself? Even women manage it."

"Oh this?" Ryo asked, hoping Bakura didn't note the nervousness in his tone. "Yes, I did that yesterday."

"Be more careful."

"Bakura, I am grown. It's not like when I was five and you'd have to put the iodine on my skinned knees when mother and the aunties were working."

"I refuse to apologize for anything I do be it benevolent or malign. That includes looking out for you."

"Well, that's certainly the truth." Ryo looked around. "By the way, where's Marik?"

"Enthralling the crew with tales of his royal birth and stories of the treasure of kings long dead in which we seek. I swear, that little princeling will do anything to get out of proper work."

"Unlike you. You must be exhausted already with all the hard labor although we've only set sail an hour ago."

"Oh trust me, brother, between you and Marik I always keep busy. Though, to be honest, I probably will end up darning and rigging sails before all is said and done just to keep from getting bored. Sixteen months on a ship, I don't known how in the hells you talked me into this adventure."

Ryo flicked the golden amulet hanging from his neck. "Treasure."

Bakura snorted again. "You know, you look like a kid with your hair up like that."

Ryo shrugged, done with the meat and storing the scraps for their pottage supper, nothing wasted on ship. "It gets hot back here."

"So I've noticed. I think I'm going to go find Marik above deck. I hope you have fun in this stuffy, little cage you've built for yourself for the sake of some in and out time."

"Bakura, I am so happy I can barely stand it. My heart feels like it's going to explode from my ribs." Ryo looked away. "I know that sounds like rubbish. Sorry, go find Marik and let me do my job."

Bakura scratched the back of his silver-white hair. "I'm glad, but remember what Marik said, Ryo. This pirate of yours is marked."

"And remember what I said. I'll kill anyone that tries to take him."

Bakura's hand dropped. His lips went slack in his jaw. "You . . . are serious now. You have a will-o-the-wisp's light in your eyes. Well, I certainly won't argue with you. I'm a fool, but not stupid enough to anger a sprite."

"Yarbles." Ryo's standard reply for when his brother called him a fey. He pointed to the dining area. "Are you going to stay and tell me fairy tales or leave so I can finish lunch?"

Bakura waved and turned to leave. "Thanks for the oil."

"You're welcome." Ryo laughed, wiping down his prep table and and using a heavy oak cutting board to cut carrots.

* * *

Ryo was insistent that Kek refereed to him as the galley cook to the crew. He didn't want special treatment by anyone trying to curry favor with the captain, nor did he want to encourage jokes about Ryo being the captain's wench. So he wasn't pleased when the duty cook representing the first of the ship's two messes came into the kitchen for beer and stared at Ryo as if his blood had more nobility in it than Marik's. The second duty cook behaved in the same manner. Ryo also noticed that the crew acted strangely when he appeared in the dining area. They whispered to each other and treated Ryo with a strange politeness, as if he were a nice set of tits instead of a malchick.

He cleaned the kitchen after dinner and prepared everything for the next day, measuring oatmeal and butter with the same precise hand as a window with 20 children to feed. Ryo boiled a small pot of sea water in a dismal attempt to freshen himself before seeing Kek in his cabin, but he wasn't as upset about being sweaty as he should be, because he was angry at the crew's behavior. He marched to their bedroom, opening and shutting the now repaired door and glaring at his lover. "What's wrong with the crew?"

Kek looked up from the bed, already naked and waiting for Ryo. He raised an eyebrow, noticing the pensive look on Ryo's face. "Nothing?"

"Then why was I treated like a princess in glass slippers by everyone on the ship today?"

Kek laughed. He smoothed his fingers over the sheet, trying to coax Ryo to bed. "They think you're the incarnation of an Albatross. If you're happy we'll have good luck and steady winds, but if they offend you, we'll be cursed."

"Please tell me that's a joke."

"No. I'm sorry if it vexes you."

Ryo trudged to the bed, throwing himself face down on his half of the bed. "Fairies, Albatrosses, demons, and djinns – yarbles, yarbles, yarbles, and yarbles."

"I am sorry. I will stop calling you a unicorn."

Ryo smiled, crawling closer to Kek. "No, it's cute when you do it. When you call me a hero or a 'corn, you have a way of making me feel that it's not just because I'm pretty and milk-pale. I wish I were the color of spice like the rest of you."

"Like I said, you're the most real creature I've ever seen, and when you walk, it's like you cut through the illusion around you."

Ryo smiled, he started to unbutton his shirt with a teasing-slow speed. "And what illusion is that, lovey?"

"That this world is ugly. It seems that way, doesn't it? It's made you wary and quick to adapt, but not bitter. I'm not trying to reduce you to a symbol, but I do think that a unicorn is a proper symbol to describe someone as complex as you."

"See, it sounds nice when you say things like that." Ryo curled up on Kek's chest.

Kek kissed Ryo's forehead. Running his fingers down Ryo's braided hair. "What color was your mother's hair?"

"Silver-white, like Bakura's."

"You father may have been a Northerner with pale yellow hair. It'd explain why you're the color of snow and your tolerance of hard drink is so high." Kek kissed Ryo's forehead again. "But Northerner or fey, demon or unicorn, I don't care. I love whom I love."

Ryo looked up so he could kiss Kek's mouth. Kek grinned and shrugged. "But I hope you don't mind if I let them have their superstition. I don't remember moral ever being this high on the ship before."

"Oh whatever. Let them think I'm lucky." Ryo hiked his leg over Kek's waist, straddling him. His unbuttoned shirt dropped to the floor and his pants. He and Kek kissed with the patience of new couples, long, lingering kisses with no urgency to progress, though they did rub themselves together until sweat coated both their bellies and backs. They kissed and touched until Ryo felt panicked with need. He kept waiting for Kek to flip over and take him, but Kek merely lay beneath Ryo, kissing and pressing himself against Ryo with fierce, quick grinding motions.

It wasn't until a muffled, frustrated noise escaped Kek's throat and he opened his legs wider, pressing his ass towards Ryo's erection, that Ryo understood what Kek wanted him to do. His heart fluttered. He stretched his hand up to get their lubrication, moving hasty as he covered himself and then slammed deep into Kek's body. Kek hissed at the intrusion, and Ryo scolded himself for forgetting that Kek was still green in the bedroom. "Sorry," Ryo whispered. "I'll be more gentle."

Kek grabbed Ryo's ass with both hands, pushing Ryo deeper inside him. "No. Ryo, fuck me harder."

The dirty words made Ryo moan. He dug his fingers into Kek's wiry hair for purchase and rammed into him as hard and fast as he could coax his body. Ryo tried holding his breath and blanking his mind in order to keep himself from climaxing first, but small shivers ate at his nerves and he feared he wouldn't last.

Kek made small, strangled, gasping noises and his legs twitched on either side of Ryo's body. His sperm, hot but quick to cool, slicked both of their pressed-together bellies. Ryo needed to scream, but didn't dare with the crew on the ship, so he bit into Kek's shoulder, hard, but he couldn't help it as his orgasm flowed on and on and on until he sank on top of his lover unable to move. Kek held Ryo close, whispering Ryo's name into his ear and tracing the dip of his spine until they were both asleep.

* * *

Marik and Bakura didn't have the patience of a new couple. They never did, not even in their first few weeks of each other, thus their foreplay looked quite different in the little closet-like storage area they commandeered as a bedroom. Bakura, after another failed attempt to say no to Marik, hung from the ceiling, above their bed, in a tangle of nets and ropes. "I don't see how this is s'pose to work, lovey."

Marik stood on the floor, looking up at Bakura and admiring the baked clay color of his naked body and the contours of his muscles. "Regardless of the success of this experiment, I must comment that you look very pleasing bound up as you are."

Bakura narrowed his silver eyes, flexing his muscles to tease Marik. "Yes, and as much as it pleases me to be reduced to an object for you to admire. How do you plan on reaching me when I'm this high? You need to lower the ropes."

"I put them where I wanted them."

"No, you acted like you always do, without thinking, and this is where I ended up."

"Don't be absurd, Bakura. I thought it through. It'll be more fun with you that high."

"And still the question remains. How will you reach me?"

Marik looked around the room and dragged two crates beside the bed. He stood on the boxes and slapped Bakura's naked, brown ass. "See? You're right where I want you."

"Full pint of rum says neither one of us tops off in this position."

"Add a foot rub and we're in business."

"As you wish, my prince."

"Very well, my thief, the bet is official. Shall we begin?"

Bakura grunted to consent. Marik jumped back to the ground to snatch the small clay jar and coat himself with the pleasant smelling oil. He climbed back on top of the wooden crates and kissed the back of Bakura's thighs.

"Marik, don't tease me tonight. I'm already tied up for your amusement give me a treat for playing nice."

"A treat?" Marik raised an eyebrow with the question. He leaned forward and bit into Bakura's thigh.

Bakura flinched then arched his back and closed his glazzies. His mouth opened in a noiseless moan. Marik flicked his wine-colored tongue along Bakura's inner thighs, biting at random intervals. With each bite, Bakura arched his back and struggled against the ropes. He had a specific fondness for bites, the initial flash of pain that vanished in a shiver of pleasure and left the surface of his skin sensitive to lighter touches. As Marik slipped his fingers inside Bakura, his silent groans changed to sharp, repressed cries.

"I'm going to make you watch me drink that pint of rum."

Too enthralled to respond, Bakura kept silent except for incomprehensible expressions of pleasure.

"I'm going to enter you now."

Bakura nodded and grunted, still unable to speak. He held Bakura's hips in place and slipped inside him. As he moved he noticed Bakura writhing against the ropes. The silver-white hair hung over his face but Marik didn't need a facial expression to know that Bakura enjoyed himself. He bit into the ropes twined around his wrists, using the rope as a gag to keep himself quiet. Marik bent his knees for a better angle, keeping his eyes open so he could appreciate the sight of Bakura – bound and without control of the situation.

An illusion, a beautiful magic trick, and it only worked because the audience, Marik, suspended his disbelief. He knew Bakura and Ryo were hypermobile, and that despite the knots Marik tied, Bakura could escape if he wanted to, but he didn't want to and in that lay much of the appeal. Marik reached down and teased Bakura's perineum and testicles, smiling as Bakura bit into the ropes harder. "I'm about to win that rum, aren't I?"

Bakura grunted disagreement and Marik's rebuttal was his hand sliding up Bakura's shaft. Bakura swore through his makeshift rope gag but that only encouraged Marik to bend his knees a little lower and press himself a little deeper.

Marik realized, as Bakura came from the air onto their bedsheets below, that he should have had a handkerchief ready, but he'd been distracted and eager as he tied Bakura to the ceiling. Too late to fix it, Marik continued pumping into his lover. The crates below his feet teetered, but again he was distracted and paid them no mind until they toppled over. The top crate crashed into the floor as Marik crashed onto the bed. He blinked, surprised by the fall and looking up and Bakura's silvery eyes. Bakura looked back down at him. For a minute they were both quiet and then, at the same time, they erupted into laughter.

"Ow. I got a splinter." He grabbed his right foot and crunched up, nibbling his biggest toe with his teeth, pulling out the sliver of wood, and spitting it towards the toppled crate.

"Told you this was impractical."

"You _loved_ it. Besides, I still won the bet and that's what matters most."

"You haven't finished so you lost the bet."

"Sorry, Bakura, the bet was that neither of us would finish – you did so you lost."

"Fine," Bakura hissed, "the rum is yours."

"And a foot rub."

Bakura grinned. "Well, guess there's nothing left to do now but go to sleep. See you in the morning, lovey."

"Bakura, get your tight ass down here and put me to sleep properly."

Bakura pouted. "I'd like to, but I'm tied up and can't get down."

"Funny. Now, get down here."

"You'll have to cut me down."

"Get down here."

"Can't. You did a _really_ good job on these knots."

Marik rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Where are your damn daggers." Marik stood and walked to the other end of the room where they'd discarded their clothing in a rush.

He still searched for a knife when he felt Bakura's calloused hands wrap around him and lift him into the air. "Stupid jerk." Marik kicked for no other reason than to be difficult.

"Shhh, my prince. You're my captive now."

Marik couldn't help a smirk from dressing his lips. "Technically, I have been all these years."

"Mmmm, I like the sound of that." He dropped Marik back onto their bed, crawling into his lap and handing him a brown, glass bottle. "Your prize. I believe you intended on making me watch you drink it."

Marik took a swig from the bottle and sighed. "Delicious."

"Yes, it looks real horror show."

Marik drank again. "Oh, I promise, it is. Tastes of cloves and cinnamon."

Bakura leaned closer, his nose brushing against Marik's cheek and making Marik painful-aware of the fact that he hadn't climaxed. Bakura lowered his lids over his eyes and ghosted his lips over Marik's skin. "What a selfish tyrant you are, my prince. Drinking it all without sharing with your subjects."

"Well, my subjects shouldn't be so haughty."

Bakura continued to nuzzle against Marik, his ass teasing Marik's erection. "Maybe you could share a meager taste?"

Marik drank until his lips shined in the lantern light with excess rum. "You're a thief, steal a taste if you're apt to have it."

Bakura licked the rum off of Marik's lips and kissed him. They continued the game, Bakura drinking rum from Marik's mouth. He eased down on Marik's erection and rode into his lap as he sucked on Marik's lips. Every hitch of Bakura's hips intoxicated Marik far more than the sips of alcohol. Marik dropped the bottle when he climaxed, spilling the last drink into their blanket. He and Bakura stared at light stains from cum and dark stains from rum and then at each other.

"We are not meant for the sea," Marik sighed.

"It was worth it."

Marik grinned and nodded. "At least your brother is happy."

"Little brat." Bakura pulled up from Marik's lap and went to a pitcher of salt water, trying to clean himself as much as he could with what he had.

"But you must admit that he's been glowing since he's been on this ship. No wonder the crew thinks he's an Albatross. I've never seen him in such good health."

"The little fool's already cut himself in that kitchen."

Marik chuckled. "Ah yes, I saw the bandage. Is that what he told you? That he cut it while cooking?"

"He said he cut it yesterday." Bakura sat back on the bed, tossing the empty bottle on the floor. "Why? What's with that look on your face?"

"Nothing." Marik twirled one of his earrings with a stray finger.

"Marik."

"Ask him. That's a talk for brothers."

"Marik do you really want me asking him? Because I'll bust their damn door down again and ask him right now if you think I should."

Marik pursed his lips. "Fine, fine. Did you notice his dashing, rouge, pirate captain had a similar bandage?"

"No. What does it mean?"

"The heathen wanderers of the East have a very strange custom. When a man chooses a bride he cuts his hand and hers and mixes their blood to unite them."

"Are you saying . . . are you telling me that . . ."

Marik shrugged and flipped his hair over his shoulder. "You brothers really are similar, aren't you? Both falling for golden-haired Easterners and both marrying in secret."

Bakura grabbed Marik's wrists. "Those hunters after him. Are they as dangerous as you say or is that just the myth they use to keep young priests from running away?"

Marik blinked at Bakura. "He will be captured sooner or later, but you know your brother is stubborn and won't listen to us about that."

"If it came down to a fight, could the four of us beat them?"

Marik dropped his eyes. ". . . I don't think so. I've never heard of a single one ever falling. Ever. Why do you look like that, Bakura?"

"We talked about it today and I saw something in my brother's eyes, something I never thought I'd see in him."

"What?"

"Murderous intent. The damn fool is going to get himself killed. What do I do about that?"

Marik looked away. He reached behind himself and brushed the scars on his back. "We stop at port about five months into our voyage, right?"

Bakura nodded.

"I'll write my sister – tonight. I'll send it as soon as we reach the docks."

He saw Bakura start at the sentence. Marik never wrote his sister, too afraid of being caught himself.

"How will you get a reply?"

Marik smiled at the memory of his sister. "Oh, she'll know how to get a hold of me."

"Marik. Thank you—"

Marik interrupted him with a kiss. "If the situation was reversed, if my brother was in mortal danger, I know you'd risk yourself for me. How can I help but do the same?"


	7. Chapter 7

*****Barmy means crazy. Pottage is a type of soup (whatever you throw in the pot. Usually it has very simple ingredients like onions and leeks or carrots.} Tack is a hard bread that would keep on a ship for a long time, although they would eventually break apart and get infested with weevils. Bone soup is when you soak the bones in soup to get the marrow out (you can find recipes online on how to make it), and Bumbo is a drink similar to grog, but it tastes better because it had more sugar and nutmeg instead of all the citrus in actual grog - which was needed to prevent scurvy)**

 **And as a total tangent (skip this if you don't like cookies), if you want to make the best oatmeal raisin cookies ever (I call them Drunken Pirate Oatmeal Raisin Cookies), make Bumbo (rum, sugar, *ground* nutmeg - just a little - I also toss in some cinnamon sticks and whole cloves but remember to take them out before you add the raisins - you can find a proper recipe online) and boil the raisins in it until they are very fat and almost all of the rum has evaporated (stir constantly). It can be saucy, but not wet. Then, as you set them aside to cool, take 2 sticks of butter and 1 cup of dark brown sugar and cream them for 3-5 minutes (yes that's a long time, but I only make these for Christmas) Then add a large pinch of salt, 1-2 tbsp vanilla (I make my own with rum), and 2 tsp of baking powder. For spices I used (all ground) cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, lemongrass, and fenugreek (and I add these generously, except the nutmeg. I only use about ¼ tsp of nutmeg, and maybe 2x's as much cloves, but just pour in the cinnamon and fenugreek - well, not literally, but add a lot more than would be in a normal recipe. And some of these you should look for in Asian/Latino/Indian markets because they'd be stupid expense at health food stores or supermarkets).**

 **Then you add 2-ish cups of flour. I never really follow directions when I cook so take the cups as a guesstimate. I will add 1 cup of flour, mix it with a mixer, and then add another cup and kinda judge it by texture if I need more or not. It needs to be firm enough to turn into a ball, but malleable enough to add 1-ish cups of old fashioned oats to the mix. Then you fold in the raisins, ball the mixture onto a cookie sheet, and bake at 350F until golden brown (I have no idea how long that takes, set a timer for 8 mins and then check them). I also make an icing with 1 stick butter, powdered sugar, vanilla, and a shot of rum and a touch of fresh lemon juice (and 1 cap full of milk *if* it needs to be thinned, but you should mix it first and just eyeball it) and when the cookies are cooled, I will strip them with the icing and then set them in the fridge to harden the icing. There shouldn't be much alcohol in these by the time you are done. The Bumbo is to make the raisins plump, the alcohol evaporates when you boil it down, and the shot of rum in the icing won't do crap when you divide it amongst all the cookies. Still, I wouldn't advise giving these to an 8 year old just in case.*****

* * *

Chapter 7

First Ryo served fresh vegetables. When they started to wilt around the edges and shrivel, he roasted them, and when they grew too limp for anything else, he made pottage. Nothing was wasted. Kek had spoken of respect preventing mutiny on a ship, but Ryo knew that rations played an even greater role in keeping the crew content. Still, even with his clever recycling and shrewd planning, the vegetables did run out and they were left with beans and salted pork, carefully boiled because the salt dried the meat hard as tack.

They were in the last week of of the first five months of their journey – a week away from a hot bath and clean linen and drinking water that didn't taste stale and musty. Ryo felt foul and irritable. No matter how many pots of sea water he boiled, he never felt clean and the salt irritated his sensitive skin and made his hair coarse and stiff.

Ryo felt an arm creep around his waist. He leaned into Kek's chest. "What are you doing in the galley?"

"I missed you."

Ryo smiled. He took their left hands and matched their scars together. "You really shouldn't be here. First mess will want their supper soon."

"Just double their beer for the night and let's go to bed early."

Ryo twisted in Kek's hold so he could face him and kiss his lips. "Get out of here and let me do my job." He kissed him again.

"Actually, I'm here because I wanted to do something nice." Kek began unbuckling Ryo's belt.

"Whoa, what are you doing, lovey?" Ryo grabbed Kek's hands.

"You've been working really hard. Thought you'd like a treat." Kek gave Ryo a single peck on the lips and then dropped down to his knees.

"But, the duty cook will be here soon to get the beer."

Despite Ryo's protest, when Kek pulled out Ryo's penis from his trousers it was long with blood flow and growing stiff. Kek grinned. "We have plenty of time."

Ryo glanced to the side. "Did you at least lock the door?"

"Of course." Kek gave Ryo a playful lick.

Ryo's phallus twitched with the contact. He bit his lip, nervous but his desire overrode his shyness. It'd been four days since they last fooled around (one does not feel sexy when one cannot properly bathe). A half-formed grin hooked up the corner of Ryo's mouth as he thought about it. He used to go months at a time between lovers, but now a few days left him ravenous.

Kek's blow jobs were loud, and sloppy, and incredibly good. He sucked and smacked with moist, broad lips, his long tongue always moving. Ryo leaned back against the wall, pushing his hips forward and holding onto Kek's hair. He continued biting his bottom lip to suppress the moans wanting to pour from his mouth. Kek's coarse hands traveled up and down Ryo's thighs.

After Ryo came, he felt as if the boundaries between reality and fantasy had been redrawn by a great trickster god, and now he stood on the other side of existence. His old wagon and quick loveless nights behind theaters were the only reality he'd ever known, and now he felt like a character in a play. Looking down at Kek, his purple glazzies bright and shining in the lamplight, his lips red from friction, another idea crossed Ryo's mind. Perhaps Kek had been right, that everything before had been an illusion (an illusion that the world was ugly), and now Ryo was seeing the truth of the world (the truth that the world was filled with tales worthy of fairies).

Ryo touched Kek's cheek. "Kek, I love you."

Kek smiled. "That's the first time you've said it directly."

"I've said it before."

"Not directly."

Ryo sighed. He helped Kek to his feet and kissed him. "Your turn."

"Well, I mean, I know you need to finish dinner."

"It's the last of the beef. I'll just serve it with sauerkraut and sea biscuits."

Kek's smiled shifted to a grin. "In that case." He kissed Ryo's throat.

Ryo turned around, leaning against the wall and giving Kek a coy glance over his shoulder. Kek grabbed the olive oil and prepared himself, slipping into Ryo. Ryo leaned his forehead against the wall, panting hard. They knew at any moment the duty cook may knock on the door, which made the sex quick, but intense. After Kek ejaculated and they cleaned up, as best they could, they grinned at each other like school boys playing hooky from their lessons. Kek reached his left hand up, and Ryo pressed his palm against his, so their scars lined up again. Kek reached up with his right hand and toyed with the bangs spilling out of Ryo's bandana. "Do the dishes fast tonight, okay?"

Ryo smiled. "Okay. I'll just throw them overboard and serve breakfast on the table in the morning."

Kek kissed Ryo's mouth before sighed and lowering his hands. "I guess I really do need to leave." He walked to the door, unlocking it and leaving through the serving area before men started gathering.

Ryo heard Kek greet someone and turned to see Bakura standing in the doorway, scowling. Ryo tried to swallow his smile. "Hey Bakura," he said.

"You're smirking."

"Beg pardon?"

"You are smirking. You don't smirk, you smile, sometimes you grin, but you never smirk."

"What? Afraid I'm stealing your look?"

"And you forgot the put the lid back on the bottle of olive oil."

Ryo put his hands on his hips. "Why are you even here?"

Bakura smirked and Ryo was sure his brother wore the expression better out of the two of them. "I'm tonight's duty cook. Good thing, too. Who knows what someone else would have walked in on."

Ryo shrugged. "Keeping the albatross in a good mood is the Captain's job, Bakura. You don't want bad weather, do you?"

Bakura laughed, going to the back to get two kegs of beer. "You hear all that chatty-chat, do you? Shouldn't let it get to your head."

"I can't help their superstition. Why the hell are you acting as duty cook?"

Bakura set the kegs down while he continued talking. "It's my turn. I got drafted working on the ship, after all. There's nothing else to do."

"What does Marik do all day while you're playing sailor?"

"He calls it delegating. I call it annoying the shit out of me."

"He just sits there and watches you while giving out orders?"

"Usually he tells stories. He's finishing a grand one currently. Lucky for you, or we'd probably all be down here by now."

Ryo gave Bakura another smirk, thinking that perhaps the expression suited his face after all. "When we get back from shore leave I'll give you two jars of oil to show my appreciation."

"Make it three. Sneaking in here and stealing olive oil without you knowing is really tricky."

"I _notice_ when you do it. I just don't have time to argue with you about it." Ryo grabbed plates for Bakura to set the table with and opened up a barrel of sea biscuits, checking them over for weevils. "Are we still playing cards tonight?"

"Can you keep your clothes on that long?"

"If I must."

"Sarcasm does not become you, little brother. Yes, we're playing. I'll even help you clean up after second mess so you can join us sooner."

Ryo frowned. "That's nice. Why are you being nice? That makes me worried."

"I'm not being nice. I'm seriously that bored." Bakura took the plates and disappeared for a minute. He returned and grabbed the beer once again. "Besides, got to keep the albatross happy, don't we?"

"You're not superstitious."

"Ha, no, not really." Bakura shrugged. "I just, remember, that's all."

"Remember what?" Ryo asked.

"What's it's like that first year in love. It makes me nostalgic – tell that to Marik and I will gut you, good luck and winds be damned."

"Bakura getting sentimental, who would believe me even if I did tell?"

Bakura ignored him as he finished setting up. Five minutes later, Ryo stood and passed out rations of beef and sauerkraut. The men frowned at the food, though they knew as well as Ryo that on the second half of their journey their current meal would seem a feast as they drank bone soup flavored with grog and thickened with sea-biscuits, the bugs floating to the top and swimming across the surface. That knowledge, and their reverence for Ryo as a mythical creature, kept their complaints light-hearted. Except, however, for Marik who had no sea experience and no love for cabbage in any form. "Again?" He groaned as he stared at the food. "Ryo, are you trying to starve us?"

"It's good for you, Marik." Ryo smiled.

"I'm going to be at the head all night giving this back to the ocean."

"Then don't eat it. You can always give it to me." Bakura lifted up a piece of tact heaped with sauerkraut and pushed it towards Marik's mouth.

Marik pushed Bakura's hand to the side. "Keep that filth away from my face or sleep in the crew quarters tonight, Bakura."

Bakura popped the food into his mouth and grinned.

* * *

Later that night, Marik sat in the Captain's quarters with Kek. He shuffled a deck of cards while Kek poured cups of Bumbo for everyone. Bakura and Ryo had yet to return from kitchen duty, which had been the plan. Marik thumped the cards down on the barrel they used as a card table. "So?" he asked.

"So?" Kek tilted his head over to the side.

"Tell me about the Hunters."

"Ah, yes. I suppose this conversation was inevitable, wasn't it?"

"You've grown awfully close to someone very important to Bakura and I. His fights are our fights and I think it only fair that we know the enemy we'll have to fight."

Kek stared into the lantern. "There is no fighting them. The Hunters are priests so dedicated that they sacrificed their own bodies for the use of the temple."

"Sacrificed how?"

"By dying for God through fire and being reborn immortal." Kek shifted his gaze so that he stared at Marik. "I've snapped their spines, stabbed their kidneys, disemboweled them, I've even decapitated a few, but the same priests pursue me each time – held together by some magic I don't understand." He paced across the room. "That's why I need a promise from you."

Marik sighed. "You want us to drag Ryo away when the time comes."

Kek nodded his head. "I know I'm being selfish, keeping him until the end like this . . . but I can't help it. I fear a day without him more than any Trial or Hell."

"Have you told him about the Hunters? Because, quite honestly, I don't think either I or Bakura has the strength to pull him away if something is threatening you."

"Of course I told him, but you know he's stubborn."

Marik snorted. "Yes, a family trait I'm well aware of. Have you heard of the Oracle, Isis?"

Kek nodded. "I met her, once."

Marik arched his right eyebrow. "When was that?"

"The day before my vows. She was there to pray." Kek smiled at an old memory. "She told me not to kill the priests because they'd give me the Trial that day and I'd die screaming in my sleep." Kek's gaze returned to the lamp light. "She said if I spared them, I wouldn't take the Trail until my thirty-first year. I thought it was nonsense, but as they carved the vows into my back something snapped in my mind." A large waved rocked the ship hard, Kek swayed, but stayed stable on his feet as he continued his narrative. "Although a child, I broke my restraints and attacked the priests. I beat most of them near death, but it wasn't until I held the knife in my hand, slick with my own blood from their ceremony and poised to kill, that her words returned to me. So I dropped the knife and fell back on the altar and permitted them to finish – though I ran away the next year."

Marik frowned. "How old are you now?"

"Thirty a week before we started sailing."

"Damn-it. I hoped for more time. I have written my sister, the oracle, for advice."

"You should thank her for me. These last five months have been worth every pain I've ever suffered."

Marik grit his teeth, he couldn't look at his countryman. "Even if Ryo wasn't so fond of you, I'd still feel obligated to help. You and I are the same, blood-brothers by the scars on our backs."

* * *

"Yes, but the whole time she wouldn't let me take off my boots." Bakura spoke with wide, flourishing hand gestures. He and Ryo swapped awkward stories of some of their oddest clients as they walked back to Ryo's bedroom for their card game.

"Didn't she mind the mud on the sheets?"

"Apparently her late husband had horrid feet with toenails like talons that would keep her up at night as they scraped against her feet."

Ryo wrinkled his face. "Eww."

"So there I was, naked, but in boots, hands tied behind my back, and she pulls out this odd, leather chastity belt. Only it was sort of the opposite because it had a wooden extension at the crotch covered in a sheepskin slip."

"Bolshy yarbles, you are making that up."

"No, apparently she bought it from a Southern merchant."

"Kek's been to the South. I'm going to ask him if he's ever seen such a contraption."

"Do ask, then you'll know I'm genuine with my story."

"Well for now, let's say I believe you. Go on."

"So I'm like, _whoa, lovey, whatever are you going to do with that little bauble?_ She was not shy in telling me, in detail, what she planned on doing. I was about to escape at that point. That area is Marik's kingdom, if you know what I mean, and no amount of pretty polly was worth letting that starry baboochka take out all the anger of her husband on my derriere."

"Did you have to give her a refund?"

"Ah, no need, fate saved me at that moment. Her steward busted in at that moment screaming that the stables were on fire. I untied myself, dressed, and snuck away, thanking the gods the entire trip back to the wagon for my luck."

Ryo laughed. "I think I remember that night. I remember you telling us about the fire. I have a tale where the staff walked into the room, but it was one of the maids."

"Did she get lashed for interrupting?"

"Not as such. We'd just started and she stood there, looking wounded. Her mistress slide out from under me, this one was also a widow, but very young, a year or two younger than me. It only took me a minute to realize that these barmy devotchkas wanted each other."

"How could you tell?"

"Their glazzies, and how much the mistress apologized. When I realized the problem, I stood up, locked the door, and carried the maid back to the bed. They both creeched a bit at first, but after a few kisses I had them both out of their dresses and tossing about each other with the old in and out, myself forgotten. I sat there and ate butterscotch candies and watched them go at it, and did they ever. Between the two of them, I think I counted seven O's. Women are amazing like that." They'd almost reached Ryo's room.

Bakura snorted. "Bah, they can keep the extras, not worth bearing children."

"Oh, but you'd look so cute pregnant, and then I could be an uncle." Ryo opened the door and stepped inside. "The best part of the night was she doubled my pay, and I didn't really do anything except watch."

Ryo noticed Marik stared at him with a raised eyebrow. "Did you just say you're going to be an uncle?"

Ryo patted Bakura's stomach, grinning. "Yes. Congratulations."

"It's made of sauerkraut," Bakura added.

"Then I'll have nothing to do with it." Marik dealt cards.

"That's no way to talk about your unborn child, Marik." Ryo shook his finger in Marik's direction as he scolded him. Ryo sat beside Kek and across from Marik.

Marik wrinkled his nose. "I think this is the perfect opportunity for a change of subject."

"Well then, what have you two been talking about?" Ryo asked.

"Ah," Marik answered. "Our home country, or rather, some of the nuisances of our culture." Marik looked at his cards. Bakura tried to peek at his hand, and Marik elbowed him in the side, which only made Bakura smile.

Kek won almost all the games, mostly because Marik and Bakura spent most of their time arguing. Marik managed to win with a full house during the last game in which Bakura tossed his hand into the air, cards raining down on their head. "I'm done."

"Just once." Ryo sighed. "I'd like a card game with you to _not_ end in you tossing cards."

"Come now, Ryo." Marik winked. "It's the only part of the game he's good at."

"Piss off."

Ryo rolled his eyes and picked up the cards, shuffling the deck and putting them away. They said their goodnights and Marik and Bakura left Ryo and Kek alone in their cabin. Ryo stripped his clothes away and crawled into bed, snuggling against Kek as soon as he lay underneath the sheets. "Lovey, you didn't speak at all tonight. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Kek leaned into Ryo.

"Don't nothing me when something is off."

Kek smiled, drawing on Ryo's white chest with his pointer finger and pressing closer. "I'm just tired and anxious for shore."

"Did Marik say something to you that upset you?"

"Talk of home is never pleasant, but sometimes necessary."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

After five months of sailing, Ryo sat in a bath. He sank into the hot water to his chin, loose hair flung over the edge of the tub. He poured another scoop of water on the hot stones below his tub, causing steam to hiss and rise throughout the room. Ryo planned on staying in the water forever, or until the rocks turned cold. The scent of lavender and sandalwood drifted across the air with the steam and Ryo sighed with content. When the water grew tepid and the skin on his fingertips and toes wrinkled, Ryo washed and rinsed his hair and then crawled out of the tub to dry himself. He felt like he glowed.

His next stop was the nearest pub for a proper breakfast – the first meal he didn't have to cook for himself and twenty others in five months. Ryo walked through hard-panned roads and past men dressed in dark suits on their way to their daily business. He shook his head at them, never being able to stomach the thought of textile mills or working the docks. He found a suitable pub named _Thistle and Thyme_ and pushed through the door to escape the mundane hell of the city streets. Inside was quiet, only two people sat at a table in the corner.

Ryo found a table at the opposite end of the pub. He ordered eggs, streaky rashers, black and white sausages, green beans, grape fruit, toast with jam, and coffee. The coffee came first, Ryo took large swallows, the dark, bitter liquid burning the back of his throat. Ryo had to restrain himself from moaning at the food. Kek found him on his fourth cup of coffee and third bowl of green beans. "There you are." He smiled when he saw Ryo.

"Surprised you found me in this huge city."

"I looked for the closest place to the bathhouse that served breakfast."

Ryo smiled, mouth full of bread and strawberry jam. "Yes, I suppose that would be the most obvious place." Kek sat beside Ryo. He speared several green beans on his fork and put them into Kek's mouth.

Ryo sat with Kek as he ate a similar breakfast, sipping on his coffee now that he was satiated. "You smell like vanilla," Ryo whispered.

"You smell like lavender."

"You have jam on your face." Ryo ran his finger next to the corner of Kek's mouth, licking his finger afterward.

Kek smiled at his empty plate. "Thanks."

"So," Ryo propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands. "We're clean and fed. What next?"

Kek raised an eyebrow, shoving the last bite of toast into his mouth. "Go to the brothel with our shipmates?"

Ryo chuckled. "Your face looks so straight, that if I didn't know you, I'd think you were serious. No wonder you always win at poker."

"I've already rented a room upstairs."

"Have you now?" Ryo winked. "Maybe you should show it to me."

They settled the bill for their food and went upstairs to the inn portion of the public house. The room was common, gray, wool blankets, a bed, a table, a wardrobe, and a few chairs. Kek walked backwards to the bed and sat down, violet glazzies trained on Ryo. Ryo licked his lips, his heart doing sudden cartwheels in his chest.

"Your hair is down today."

Ryo combed his fingers through his hair, walking towards the bed. "I don't have to worry about it getting into the food."

"I like it down."

"Good." Ryo leaned down to Kek, allowing his hair to fall over his shoulder as he bent forward to kiss him. Ryo ran his fingers over Kek's lips, tracing the thick outline of them. He did the same with his tongue, then continued kissing him.

Kek tangled his fingers in Ryo's hair. He only unwound them from the white strands in order to unbutton Ryo's shirt and pants. Their mouths separated and they went to each other's shoulders, licking the contours of muscle under skin. Kek handed Ryo the jar of oil and Ryo dabbed his fingers into the mixture and used them to prepare his lover. Kek moaned and kissed the crook of Ryo's neck. He crawled into Ryo's lap and seated himself onto Ryo's erection. Ryo buried his face in Kek's chest and wrapped his arms around Kek's ass. The first time they did it that way, Ryo laughed. He couldn't help it, Kek was both taller and broader than Ryo and looked mismatched in Ryo's lap, but Kek always finished twice in that pose, and that was a pleasure Ryo enjoyed watching too much to protest a little unconventional positioning.

Kek shouted little screams of pleasure into Ryo's mouth, stopping only to snatch quick kisses from Ryo's lips. He moved his hips in tight, eager circles. Ryo shivered, his eyes closing half way. He reached out his tongue and licked Kek's bottom lip. Kek responded by sticking out his tongue. They locked their tongues together for a moment, but Kek pulled away, throwing his head back and shifting his body faster but in smaller movements. Ryo teased Kek's shaft until semen squirted onto Ryo's pale stomach. After Kek's first orgasm, Ryo moved his hand down, still stroking but lower on the shaft and away from the sensitive head.

Kek held onto Ryo's shoulders, leaning down and resting his forehead on the top of Ryo's head. Ryo traced his fingers up and down Kek's spine, scraping his fingernails oh so soft against Kek's ass as it bounded up and down. His right hand still squeezed Kek's shaft.

"Is it good?" Kek asked, his voice rough, almost an angry growl.

"Bloody horror show."

"I want you – to enjoy this – as much as I do."

Ryo smiled, his breath puffing out of his mouth. "Trust me, lovey, I do."

"Ryo."

Ryo gave Kek a sigh of content at the sound of his name.

"Ryo."

The second time sent a flash of pleasure through Ryo's groin.

"Ryo." With each call of his lover's name, Kek's voice grew a little louder. He pulled hard up Ryo's phallus and pushed down fast.

Ryo opened his mouth to speak, but only a quiet moan left his mouth.

"Ryo!" Kek's cock jerked in Ryo's hands as he came a second time.

"Lovey, lovey, lovey." Ryo chanted as Kek continued to ride him. "Oh, love." Ryo dug his fingers into Kek's ass and guided him up and down until his own orgasm caused every thought in Ryo's head to shiver and go clear like glass.

Kek grabbed Ryo's face and allowed his tongue to wander in Ryo's mouth. Ryo leaned back, relaxing and letting Kek support him. "I love you," Ryo whispered as soon as Kek's mouth pulled away.

"I love you," he echoed. "My mind's always been like the sea, angry and churning, but when you're near me I feel calm. For the first time in my life, I feel safe."

Ryo chuckled, squeezing Kek as tight as his slender arms could manage. "Safe? What could I possibly protect you from? You do realize that you have arms the size of cannons, right?"

"But inside, you're much stronger than I am."

Ryo looked away. "You've always thought too much of me."

"You've never thought enough of yourself."

* * *

Before Marik and Bakura ate or bathed, they wanted to find a courier to send the letter Marik wrote to his sister. They wandered the streets, gathering the lay of the city, but before they could find the post, a boy, about nine with a flowing chaos of brown curls growing too low around his ears, stopped them and asked, "sir, might you be Marik Ishtar?"

"I am," Marik answered.

"Delivery." The boy dropped an envelope with gilded edges in Marik's hand. Marik and Bakura looked at each other for a moment. Marik tipped the boy a bill of paper cutter and the child grinned at the amount before running into the crowed.

"Is it from your sister?" Bakura asked.

"Bet you all our pretty polly it is. I don't know of anyone else that would send a letter in a gilded envelope."

"So she knew you were going to write to her?"

"My still skeptical thief, I have told you she is an oracle and always knows these things."

"Well open it."

"Bakura, I haven't heard from my sister in seven years. Let me sit down and read this letter properly."

"Nine bloody hells, if you must. We passed a bed and breakfast a few buildings back. Let's rent a room and have baths and meals while you read properly."

They back tracked to a double storied building with ivy growing around the door. They rented a room with it's own hearth and Bakura heated water for their bath as Marik sat down and smoothed his fingers against the gold edges of the envelope before opening it.

Bakura watched Marik's violet glazzies scroll from left to right. Marik's face softened in a way that Bakura rarely saw. As the water boiled, he sat on the floor and rested his chin on Marik's knee so he could enjoy the tender expression on Marik's face as he read.

"She found a consort – oracles don't marry. She has twins now. A boy and a girl. That's a good omen to our people." Marik read a little more before relaying the content to Bakura. "It seems one of our more idiot cousins took the throne in my place but she can't see any children in his future so he adopted Rishid's three children." Marik frowned. "Now she has the audacity to tell me that they're happy, even with birth certificates, and that I should stop knitting my brows."

Bakura laughed, because Marik indeed had his eyebrows pushed together at the thought of his nephews having the same unpleasant markings that scared his own back. "Is there anything more?"

Marik nodded. "There's another page." Marik switched sheets of paper. The warmth in his face drained, his usual business-serious expression returned. "Well, do you want the good news or the bad?"

Bakura looked at Marik. "There's good news?"

"Yes. Apparently this treasure is indeed real, we'll find it so easy that it's not even right for us to take it, and as long as we don't take the gold to the gambling houses like so many will, we'll live like sultans for the rest of our days."

Bakura exhaled. "And for the record that's all that counts, but in earnest what of my brother?"

Marik slipped his hand over Bakura's. "There's no way to stop it. Kek will get the Trial. She said we have to prevent Ryo from fighting at all costs or he'll be killed . . ." Marik quirked an eyebrow high on his brow. "She also insists that we go and see her afterward so she can tell Ryo how to rescue his beloved."

"Rescue? Is that even possible? I thought the Trial was a death sentence."

"It is. I don't understand that last part. If it was anyone but my sister I'd dismiss it as rambling, but since it's her. Well, she did say, all those years ago, that I'd see her once again."

Bakura kissed Marik's hand and stood up, pouring water into the metal tub near the hearth and putting a second pot to boil. "How are we supposed to stop Ryo from attacking them, my prince?"

"The problem with oracles is that they are often vague. However, I imagine that we'll have to be straight with him. He can't rescue his lover if he's dead so he'll have to restrain himself."

"Yes, I see that going quite well."

"We'll manage. If specifics were needed she would have written them down."

Bakura sighed and frowned and rubbed the nape of his neck with his palm. "You're right. You know, for treasure that's going to be easy to find, this adventure is going to last a lot longer than we want it to, isn't it?"

"Well, the best stories work that way, don't they?" Marik stepped in the tub, wincing from the heat of the water. He pulled Bakura into the basin with him, sitting down and arranging Bakura on Marik's lap. "You're filthy," Marik teased.

"Not smelling so princey yourself."

"You're my loyal subject. Wash me."

"I thought I told you, years ago, that I don't take orders."

"You often forget that fact."

Bakura snorted.

Marik smirked. "Very well, my thief, I'll wash you first." He grabbed the terry cloth resting on the lip of the tub and soaked it in the steaming water. Marik wrung the excess water from the cloth and dabbed it on Bakura's dark chest. "Such a difficult subject."

Bakura ignored him, reaching up and tracing the lines around the corners of Marik's mouth and glazzies. Marik snatched a glance at Bakura before going back to scrubbing his arms. Bakura nudged a little closer into Marik's lap, Bakura's knees pushed into the metal sides of the tub because it wasn't quite wide enough for what he was trying to do.

"You can stop being cute until we're done washing each other."

Bakura snorted, teasing one of Marik's dangling earrings. "Then you'll be hungry and want to go downstairs for breakfast."

"Priorities, my thief."

"I agree. Priorities." Bakura leaned over and planted small kisses along the trail of Marik's throat.

"Oh, so you're going to lick me clean, perhaps you're not such a bad subject after all."

"Anything for my prince." Bakura's tone was sardonic but he smiled nonetheless.

While he was bent forward, Marik washed his back. Bakura continued to tease Marik with kisses and Marik continued to scrub Bakura's skin, darker from the hours on the ship's deck working while Marik sat in the shade. He paid extra attention to the areas in which he knew Bakura was ticklish. Bakura squirmed, splashing water out of the tub. "You _stop_ that."

"Stop what? I'm just making sure you're clean everywhere."

"Then I suppose I really should return the favor." Bakura took the cloth out of Marik's hands and twisted his torso so he could scrub Marik's feet.

"You know that doesn't work on me."

Bakura scowled as he slipped the towel between Marik's toes. Marik stayed calm and relaxed as Bakura worked. "I hate you," Bakura hissed as he gave up on Marik's feet and washed the rest of the former prince's body.

"Do you often sit naked in a tub with those you despise?"

"Only the attractive ones."

Marik looked down and frowned. "This water is filthy. Let's change it."

Bakura gave him a dramatic sigh. "Work, work, am I your servant or your slave?"

"Depends on my mood." Marik drained the water while Bakura took the heated kettle to refill the tub.

Bakura pumped tepid water directly into the tub to mix with the heated water from the kettle. The strange clockwork that ran the pump clicked as he used it. They'd seen similar devices in a handful of towns on their travels, but the had to pay double for a room that had one. When the water reached a tolerable temperature from mixing with the fire heated water, Bakura sat back in the tub.

Marik sat in Bakura's lap this time, but facing the pump instead of Bakura's face. "Be quick about my hair."

Bakura dipped Marik's head back into the hot water and lathered his golden hair with soap. "Oh? Wanting breakfast?"

"Of a sort. Your teasing did seem to awake my wanton appetite."

Bakura washed his own hair and then rinsed his head first and then Marik's. He nibbled at the nape of Marik's neck. "Then allow me to satiate that hunger."

They stepped out of the tub and dried themselves, dropping to the bed and clawing at each other's backs as they kissed. Marik lay in between Bakura's legs, his weight pressing against Bakura's belly and erection.

"Sure you don't want breakfast, first?"

"It's the duty of a ruler to tend to his subjects before his own needs."

"You're quite the honorable monarch."

Marik grunted. "Dammit, the oil is never in a convenient place."

Bakura chuckled as Marik found his rucksack and searched for a bottle of oil. Marik frowned at the bottle. "Almost out. We better stock up if this is our only shore leave. Five months was horrible, I can't believe we have another year of sailing."

"Better get used to sauerkraut." Bakura smirked.

"Better get used to spit as lubricant."

Bakura winced. "Better get used to hand jobs."

Marik plopped down on the mattress, using the last of the oil to get them ready. "You know, you do give a nice hand job." Marik maneuvered himself inside Bakura.

His breath hitched. "Ah, yes, but it's not quite as horror show as this, is it?"

Marik smiled, leaning close to Bakura as he moved in and out. "No, nothing's quite as good as being in you."

Bakura's eyelids fluttered. "Marik."

Marik sighed, his hands pressed against the mattress, his arms on either side of Bakura's chest, his body curved like the blade of his scimitar. Bakura licked his lips as he watched his prince posed over him and moving inside him. He opened his legs as wide as he could, hiking his left foot on the foot-board of their rented bed in order to improve the angle in which Marik hit inside of him. Bakura traced his fingers across Marik's shoulder muscles and biceps. He was nicely defined, though not nearly as cut as Bakura himself. That was the fun of their game. A swipe of Bakura's arm and Marik would land face down onto the wooden planks of the floor, but Bakura lay spread on the mattress, allowing Marik free reign over his body.

He closed his eyes and shut everything out of his mind except the feeling of Marik. Bakura grabbed himself with both hands and kneaded his erection until he came on his stomach. Marik hiked both Bakura's legs high in the air and Bakura sprang his eyes open. The gold of Marik's hair hung loose just above Bakura's chest as Marik poured into him. When finished they nestled against one another on the bed.

"Guess it's time for breakfast," Bakura muttered, his face pressed into the crook of Marik's arm and shoulder.

"Yeah, I'll get up in a minute," Marik said.

Bakura smiled. "You're falling asleep."

"No, I'm starving. I'll get up in a second."

"Sure."

They barely woke up in time to catch lunch.


	9. Chapter 9

*****I started a Deathshipping community called** _**Le Petite Mort**_ **. There's one already called** _**Memento Mori**_ **, but it seemed to be comprised of mostly older stories, and there's a lot of new stuff out there and gathering it together for fandom convenience seemed like a good idea. If you want to be on the staff, message me so I can send you an invite, or if you have a story you think should be on there just let me know and I'll take a look at it*****

* * *

Chapter 9

Ryo closed his eyes as he inhaled smoke from the ciggy, blowing the gray-white smoke out in rings.

"How do you do that?" Kek asked. They lay in bed with the blanket pulled over their naked chests and passed the cigar back and forth.

"Hold the smoke in your mouth and shape your lips like a ring when you blow the smoke out."

Kek tried, but only a puff left his mouth.

"Keep your tongue further back," Ryo instructed.

Kek tried again, failing and passing the cigar back to Ryo. "It's not worth the hassle."

"Don't give up that easily. You just need practice."

"Last day on land. Won't be able to practice on the ship."

"No, I suppose not," Ryo whispered, thinking about Sigmund. He'd been caught smoking an uncapped pipe in the hold one night when he was supposed to be in the crow's nest and Kek had to give him 39 stripes. After that, everyone on the ship was careful how they smoked.

Getting tied up and whipped was delightful in the bedroom when Kek used a cat of nine made from soft, toy leather and feathers and each lash only stung enough to make it fun, but to see a man truly whipped was not pleasant. He cried and called out in earnest to all twenty-seven gods as lick after lick of red welted up on his back and wept krovvy onto the ship's deck. Ryo only bared watching because he knew, somewhere deep in his chest, that Kek needed him to stay there. He couldn't tell by Kek's face, his eyes hard and his jaw set in a rigid line as the veins around his neck and temples flared with each strike. Ryo often forgot that they were on a pirate ship. He spent so many nights reading with Kek, or playing cards with his brother and Marik, or lowering the lantern light and making love in rhythm with the ocean, that he forgot how cruel Kek could be to others when order needed kept.

Ryo had treated Sigmund's wounds afterward. He had a bit of a healer's touch and always played medic during his travels (another reason he often got accused of being some strange, magic creature). When he returned to his room he saw Kek sitting on the bed, legs curled to his chest, arms hugging himself so he could brush his fingers against the scars on his back. They'd spoken about it before, how Kek could administer any punishment to the crew, usually new recruits, except the lash. That one act always brought Kek back to his tenth year, to the knife and the ceremony and his near killing of every priest in the temple.

Ryo didn't speak. He walked straight to the bed and held Kek, rubbing the flats of his palms across Kek's back. Ryo wished he were a unicorn, with a long, spiraling horn of gold that could heal scars. They didn't sleep that night, simply sat in silence wrapped together until dawn forced them back to their duties.

"It's the first time I've ever regretted getting back on the ship."

Kek's voice brought Ryo back to the present. He turned and graced his fingertips along the bend of Kek's cheek. "Wouldn't be so bad if we could bring the bathhouse with us."

Kek stretched and stood up. "Hungry?"

Ryo nodded.

"Then let's get breakfast before we have to prepare to leave tomorrow."

They ate barley with apples and cream and eggs and streaky rashers. They went to _La Muerta_ and made sure everything was loaded and secured for sailing. During their noon meal, they ran into Marik and Bakura. They all sat around a single table eating sandwiches and drinking beer. "What happened?" Ryo asked, seeing the purple bruise almost healed around Bakura's left eye.

His brother smirked. "Marik hit me."

Marik snorted, offended. "I apologized at least two hundred times by now."

"You two were brawling again, weren't you?"

"We were dancing." Marik crossed his arms over his chest.

"He took a swing at a malchick at the same time I smashed a bottle over the sod's head. Bugger dropped to the floor and Marik's fist hit me instead," Bakura explained.

"You two are impossible."

" _C'est la vie_ ," Marik said, waving his hand in a grand gesture.

"It was worth it." Bakura sat down his mug. "Marik spent the rest of the night apologizing."

Kek snorted. "Yes, I can imagine how."

"I doubt you have that kind of imagination," Bakura wagged a finger in Kek's direction.

Ryo took a generous swig of beer to prevent himself from correcting his brother. He changed the subject. "Ready for the rest of our journey?"

"No," Marik said.

"Are you going to mention the letter?" Bakura asked, but Ryo didn't like the way he asked. He was acting.

Marik answered the same way, as if they were saying lines on a stage. "Oh, that. I suppose I should."

"What letter?" Kek nibbled at the verbal bait they'd laid out for him.

"My sister wrote to me," Marik explained.

At that, Ryo was also interested, though still weary. Marik often spoke fond words of his siblings, but wasn't able to contact them.

Marik continued speaking, "she said we're going to find the treasure and the excursion won't be anything to sing about afterward. Everything will go dull and without event."

"Maybe my brother is an Albatross." Bakura grinned.

"Bolshy yarbles." The words were more habit than Ryo's opinion.

"What else did she say?" Kek asked, his guard up, and Ryo was proud of him for knowing not to trust the two scoundrels eating lunch across from them.

"Hmm?" Marik asked, as if he wasn't really paying attention, eating the pickles on his plate.

"What else did she say?"

"Mostly catch-up chat. I'm an uncle five times over between both my siblings. Better an uncle than a father, right?"

"My poor sauerkraut baby. This cruel, heartless bastard made me bury it under the ash tree."

Ryo rolled his eyes. He knew the statement was a diversion to try and pull the conversation away from the letter. He also knew that any questions Ryo wanted to be answered, wouldn't be. "I'm still mad at you, you know, for making me be the mother in that play."

"You did well. The audience wept. Hells, I almost wept."

"What? You _did_ weep," Marik insisted.

"I most certainly did _not_."

"I saw your handkerchief in your hand."

"The stage make up was irritating my eyes." Bakura crossed his arms over his chest.

Ryo wanted to change the subject. The reason he'd been able to give a moving performance, the reason his brother had his handkerchief, was because of so many stories told by their aunties when they were boys. Not sad ballads painting the woes of fictional characters, but memories. "I still don't believe you didn't dodge Marik's punch." Ryo brought the conversation full circle.

Bakura was quick to help Ryo divert their talk. "Anyone else and I could have, but Marik has a fast hook."

* * *

They had their last night on land, twice their neighbors pounded on the walls shouting for them to keep the noise lower, but both times were ignored. In the morning they took their last bath and went back to the ship for rollcall. Once everyone was accounted for, they got to work. Kek walked Ryo to the galley. "I hate rollcall. You almost always have a deserter that has to be tracked down, dragged away, and then marooned for breaking contract, but since I've met you, that's two in a row that's had one hundred percent."

"Yes, yes, I'm the lucky charm, bloody hells."

"Marik's already raising their spirits with news of his sister's letter."

"Yes, that. There's something they didn't mention."

They reached the kitchen and Kek held Ryo's chin. "Ryo, I love you."

Ryo frowned. "You _will not_ be taken from me."

Kek kissed him. "Please, Ryo."

"Stop asking me please. I'm not standing still while you go off to suffer."

Kek closed his eyes. "I promise I won't have nightmares."

"You can't promise me that. It's the nature of the Trail."

"Who cares? If the last thing I saw before the Trial was your death. That's worse than any nightmare."

"Who cares?" Ryo echoed the question back to Kek's face. "If you die why shouldn't I?"

"Because if you're alive, I can dream of you."

Ryo pulled his chin out of Kek's hand. "Don't make me do nothing. Ask anything else of me, but don't make me sit and be passive like a princess while you're in danger."

"I'm asking you to do so much more than stand still. I'm asking you to live."

Ryo smudged a single tear away from his cheek. "What's the point of meeting you and falling in love if we get less than two years together?"

Kek looked away. "I'd do it all over again. Each day with you is worth it all over again."

Ryo's breath hitched in his throat at Kek's words. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. "Here."

Kek blinked at the paper. "What's this?"

"A ballad. I told you I'd write one for you. Go away and let me start on lunch."

Kek grabbed Ryo and kissed him. Ryo's body relaxed against Kek's chest. He allowed himself to hang limp in Kek's arms as they kissed without stopping, forcing the air through their noses so their lips could stay touching. When Kek did let go, he marched out of the galley fast, as if it were the only way to force himself to leave Ryo's side.

Ryo leaned against the wall, biting his lower lip and clenching his hands into fists. Only the list of prep and chores in his mind enabled him to pull himself upright. Bakura came to visit him as he diced onion.

"Marik has the entire ship already singing songs of our success."

"They take him, don't they?"

Bakura started at the abrupt question. His eyes flicked towards the hearth. "I don't know what—"

"Yes you do. You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about."

Bakura's gaze swung in a slow arch to Ryo's direction. "She said you can't fight them."

Ryo stabbed the wooden cutting block on the table and glared at his older brother. "You know, I'm getting really tired of hearing what I can and cannot do."

"You'll _die_ if you fight them."

A weary, sardonic grin stressed Ryo's features. "Oh, so this is how I become mortal? Where are your fables and fairy stories now, brother? It seems I'm no longer fey or djinn when my life is on the line."

Bakura snorted. "If anything I'm even more convinced that you're beyond the rest of us." He learned across the table to stare closer at Ryo. "After they take him away, we're going to sneak into Marik's homeland and meet with his oracle sister so she can tell you how to rescue him."

Ryo felt the floor hit his knees. The table legs skewed his vision, in the out-of-focus background he watched his brother walk around the table and squat down so Ryo could look at him.

"I'm not making that part up, by the way."

"No," Ryo whispered, "you wouldn't make anything like that up."

"I don't understand, nor does Marik. He gets the Trial; he should die, but apparently there's a way around the rules. So when the time comes, be a good lad and let him go. Until then, act grown and stop moping about it."

Still kneeling against the floor, Ryo looked at his left palm and traced the scar on his hand. "You're right. If this is his last year, why should I make him suffer with my selfishness? Thanks Bakura."

Bakura snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't get sappy on me."

Ryo smiled. "I think I shall hug you and kiss you on the cheek like I did when I was three years old."

"Y'know, that knife of yours is still in the cutting board." Bakura scuffled the patch of bangs hanging over Ryo's bandana.

Ryo slapped Bakura's hands away and stood back up to continue chopping onions.

"Well, now that my job of being a fairy godmother is over. I'm out of here."

Ryo's lips curled up. "I saw you steal the rum. Put it back."

Bakura scowled. "How on earth did you—"

"I've known you for twenty-nine years."

Bakura pursed his lips. "I need the rum."

"Yes. You will at the end of our journey when we have no water left and that's all you have to drink. It's not my fault if you lost another bet against Marik, put the rum back."

Bakura rolled his eyes put shelved a small bottle of rum.

"And the other one."

"You bothersome wanker," Bakura cursed as he restored a second bottle.

He had a third, but Ryo let him walk out of the galley with that one.

* * *

At the end of the day Ryo returned to his room. He wanted to apologize to Kek, they hadn't really fought, but he still felt bad. When he opened the door, the room inside was black. "Kek?" Ryo called out.

He felt himself pulled into the blackness, the door slamming behind him. Kek held both Ryo's wrists, his mouth pressed against Ryo's mouth. Ryo moaned. Kek let go, grabbing at Ryo's clothing. Ryo pressed his hands against Kek's bare chest, moving his fingers lower and realizing that Kek was fully naked and hard as tack.

Ryo pulled back enough to speak. "Kek, I promise."

Kek's fingers paused in their task of removing Ryo's clothes. "Promise what?"

"I promise, when the time comes, I'll . . . I won't . . ." Ryo couldn't finished. He swallowed. "I'll – I'll let you go without fighting, if that's really what you want me to do."

Ryo felt Kek's fingers tracing the contours of his face. "Thank you."

Ryo clenched his teeth. Even with the hope of being able to rescue Kek, he hated the thought of sitting passively while the Hunters took his lover away. "But, when you see the Hunters, if you change your mind, call out my name and I won't stop fighting until they're all dead."

Still dark, Ryo couldn't see Kek's face, but he heard a chuckled beside his ear. "With your kitchen knife?"

Ryo poked Kek's ribs. "With anything I can get my hands on."

"I read the poem – seven times."

Ryo smiled in the dark. His hands traveled the well-worn roads of Kek's body. He didn't need light; he knew where to touch and where to kiss. They tumbled to the rug, Ryo kicking off his pants. Kek crawled on top of him.

"Wait, let me get the oil," Ryo said.

"No need." Kek took Ryo's cock in his hand and pressed it against his opening, already slick with sweet-smelling oil.

" _Ah_ ," Ryo gasped at the sensation, his eyes pressing shut.

Kek slid down over Ryo's length, causing a louder, longer moan to drawl from Ryo's mouth. Kek rotated his hips and growled from want as he rode Ryo as if he were a stallion, or perhaps a bare-backed unicorn. Ryo grabbed Kek's ass and jerked his hips up as Kek pushed down. He let his thoughts wander, sometimes focusing on the pressure of Kek's body sliding up and down and sometimes drifting to erotic day dreams – imagining them in a hot spring with heated water turning them both flushed as they moved, or perhaps somewhere cold, like the North, beside a bright yellow fire in a stone hearth. When Kek reduced his gyration to small, quick pulses of his hips and his grunts came rusty and out-of-breath from his throat, Ryo stroked him until he was doubled over and exhausted.

Ryo rolled Kek onto his belly and re-entered him from behind. Ryo felt Kek's scars along his stomach and chest as he pushed himself forward and backward. He bent down, kissing the top scars closest to Kek's shoulders.

"Your warmth feels good on my back," Kek whispered, as if he spoke forbidden words that he knew he shouldn't say.

"You're warmth feels good squeezing me," Ryo said. A spasm coursed through Ryo then and he shook and angled himself deeper. Kek's soft, grunting sounds helped draw Ryo to orgasm, and once finished, he continued to kiss and sooth his fingers along Kek's vows.

Kek moaned and arched his back into Ryo's hands. "Oh, _oooh._ Ryo, I'm, um, I'm hard again," he said, almost as an apology.

"Mmmm,"Ryo purred with his lips pressed against Kek's back. Kek's recovery rate continued to thrill him, even on nights when Ryo himself was exhausted from work and his own pleasure. "Get on the bed."

Kek followed Ryo's instructions. Ryo spread his hands out and stumbled through the dark until he found his personal chest. He opened it, and felt through the random odds and ends until he found the new toy he bought during their shore leave (a toy from the South, apparently Bakura hadn't been lying), but his contraption wasn't attached to a belt. It was a six inch bit of teak wood carved into the proper shape. It took Ryo a minute to find the sheep's bladder covers he'd purchased.

Ryo crawled back on the bed, before he could ask, Kek handed him the jar of oil. He held the phallic sculpture at the end and used it to pleasure Kek while his tongue lapped at the tip of Kek's penis. After a moment of teasing, Ryo slipped his mouth down his lover's shaft and sealed his lips tight against Kek's skin before pulling back up. Kek clawed at the bed-covers as Ryo tended to him. He sucked and pumped for a long time and Kek gasped and twisted against the sheets, but he didn't come and as the minutes wore on, Ryo found himself too exhausted to continue.

Ryo pulled his mouth away from Kek's dick and lowered himself an inch so he could lick Kek's testicles and lower to his perineum. Ryo peaked up from between Kek's thighs. "Would you like to switch?"

"Yes," Kek called out, shifting himself on the mattress. He held Ryo and laid him down on the sheets, kissing Ryo's neck. He used the teak wood _diletto_ to prepare Ryo while using one of his broad hands to massage Ryo's penis back into a semi-firm shape that grew harder when Kek entered him. His thrusts were fast and unyielding, as if they both hadn't worked all day nor had they been making love for the past hour. Ryo settled his head into the mattress as Kek rocked inside him. From his belly to his balls he felt like a ship in a gale. A miniature spasm shook him. Ryo held the sensation along with his breath. After it passed he clenched his inner muscles hard until another shiver passed through him. Ryo continued, giving himself light, little foreshadowings of orgasms as Kek brought himself to climax for a second time.

"It's like you're making up for all those years of not being able to have at the in and out," Ryo muttered.

Kek pulled Ryo into his chest. "Since I thought I'd never be able to touch another person, I experimented a lot alone." Kek chuckled. "And I found some old books in the heretic section of the temple library that were very helpful with that."

Comfortable silence floated between them as Ryo's mind floated into a dream. Before he fully drifted away, he heard Kek speak in low, soft words. "Sometimes, on mornings you wake up before me and go to the galley, I dream I'm there with you. I can see you cooking oats and checking the pantry and then, right before I wake up, I watch you fetch an egg from the chicken pen and fry it for my breakfast."

"Shouldn't pirates dream of more exciting things? Like treasure and battles? Or at least something awkward like getting tangled in sailing rigs without your clothes on?"

Kek answered, his tone somber. "I don't think they're proper dreams. I think I really do see you. I think a part of me is with you."

"That's sweet," Ryo murmured, too asleep to think about anything in depth.

"So as long as you're alive, I can dream about you."


	10. Chapter 10

*****"Ruby Necklace" - a slit throat*****

* * *

Chapter 10

In the middle of the night, about a month into their journey, a pounding at the door woke both Kek and Ryo. "A minute!" Kek barked at the noise, never being one to wake up in a rush.

"Lovey, break your vows and shoot the wanker," Ryo rubbed his eyes as he awoke.

He was standing and dressed before Kek, and Kek watched him stumble to the door, only having forced himself into a sitting position.

The man at the door was the first mate, Geoffrey. Ryo scowled at him, "are you barmy? What's this creeching about?"

"Albatross." Geoffrey grabbed Ryo's arm. That's what the crew called him, never Ryo or even cook, they called him 'Albatross,' and Kek knew Ryo hated it, but appreciated the fact that Ryo never tried to correct them. Geoffrey pulled at Ryo's arm. "Come quick, it's Todd, he's got the shakes and won't stop screaming."

Todd had been acting funny since his return from shore leave. He did his job, at first, but during the last week, his performance grew worse and Kek had expected for some time that he'd have to get the lash again.

Besides being galley master, Ryo often doubled for medic on the ship. "Is it a fever?" Ryo asked, his jaw set in a furious line.

Geoffrey stared at the floorboards. "In a sense."

"He's been acting off. Is he out of Draught?" Ryo spat the words, Kek couldn't remember ever hearing such a bitter tone from his love's mouth.

"I wouldn't know." Geoffrey tried to dodge the question.

"Then give him some grog and I'll tend to him in the morning." Ryo ripped his arm out of Geoffrey's grip.

"All right, he's out of Draught." Geoffrey sighed, running his hand through greasy, black hair that he never bothered washing unless it was time for shore leave. "A girl from the brothel introduced him to it. He thought he brought enough, but you know how it is with Drought. With his supply low, we've been trying to wean him away from it this past week, but he's out now and still got the shakes and sweats and, Albatross, if you don't tend to him I don't think he'll see morning."

Ryo sighed, balling his hands into fists. Kek forced himself up and dressed. "Ryo."

"I'll go," Ryo said between clenched teeth.

Kek walked around the bed and to Ryo, holding his shoulders. "You don't have to."

"I'll go," he repeated and permitted Geoffrey to lead him to the crew quarters.

Kek followed them. Todd lay on the floor. His shipmates held him down as he wailed gibberish at the ceiling. He stayed in the doorway and watched.

Ryo knelt beside him. Usually his was gentle with his patients, but he slapped Todd hard. A crack echoed in the room from the blow. "Stop creeching. None of those demons are real – you're just a fool. I'll be back with something for you, don't die while I'm gone because I didn't wake up to dump your body overboard."

"Ryo sounds pissed, Todd must have ran out of Drought."

Kek looked behind his shoulder and saw Marik, of course Bakura stood a few inches behind him.

Todd clung to Ryo to keep him from moving, crying against Ryo's chest. Ryo pushed him back down and shook him. "I don't have time for your blubbering. I don't care what monstrosities you're seeing. It's your fault for bringing that garbage onto the ship."

Ryo stormed out the crew quarters and marched towards the galley.

"I've never seen him angry," Kek said. "Who have you lost to Draught overdose?"

"It has a way of finding the stage," Marik answered. "We've seen a lot of friends, healthy one year but the next year we'd see them at a dinner party and not know if it's tuberculous or Daught killing them."

"It also has a way of finding the brothels," Bakura added. "We've laid flowers on the graves of many of our aunties – and our mother. Therefore, Ryo has no tolerance for opium or Draught."

Ryo returned with a large basin in his arms. Inside, he carried a steaming kettle, a tea cup, and a bottle of something sour smelling the color of rancid giblet gravy. He didn't speak as he re-entered the crew quarters; he knelt down beside Todd and lifted the bottle of odd drink to Todd's lips. "Drink this and _do not_ spit it back up. You swallow it, understand?"

Todd nodded, but when he tried to chug the liquid he coughed and gagged. Still, because it was the Albatross giving the order, he managed to get almost all the concoction down. Next, Ryo handed Todd the empty basin. The sailor looked up at Ryo, with weeping, blood-shot, confused eyes.

"Just a moment," Ryo whispered, his voice a little softer than before.

Todd opened his mouth to ask, but had to sink his head towards the basin as he vomited. Multiple waves of liquid kept pouring from Todd's mouth. Ryo rested a hand on Todd's shoulder as he purged. A strange, grave empathy washed over Ryo's face, layered intricately with his rage. He used a rag to mop the sweat from Todd's brow and continued to pat his back until the vomiting stopped. "Someone dump that and bring it back here." He nodded to the basin.

Geoffrey took the basin out of the room. Ryo stayed with Todd, pouring tea into a cup and resting it in both of Todd's shaking hands. Ryo held each of Todd's hands and helped him lift the tea to Todd's lips. He winced as he drank, but Ryo kept the rim of the cup pressed to his lips until it was empty. By the time Geoffrey returned, Todd was ready to vomit again. They did this for two hours, forcing tea into Todd, allowing him to purge, and giving him a rest period as he cried and wimped, swearing sea monsters were in the room and eating him alive. Mostly he shook, tremors so hard that one would think them seizures if they'd never seen a man go through detox before. Kek knew there was nothing about the tea that really helped, the shakes was a waiting game, but he supposed to act of someone doing something was comforting to Todd and the crew watching him. Unless, of course, Ryo really did posses some sort of curative powers. When Todd was able to keep down a good amount of tea, he fell asleep leaning against Ryo's shoulder. Ryo slid Todd to the floor and covered him with a blanket.

Ryo stood. "Make sure he wakes up in the morning and drinks some grog. Otherwise, just keep him in bed until the fever breaks and the shakes stop. When he's well . . ." Ryo stared at the floor. "I don't want him flogged, Captain. I'll take his ration of rum each day as payment for treating him. Give him the worse cleaning duties for the rest of the trip, and if he ever does this again – I'll personally give him forty instead of thirty-nine."

Kek heard the muttering in the crew quarters. They thought Ryo was trying to show mercy to Todd. After the shakes, thirty-nine could kill him, but Kek knew that the real reason Ryo wanted to save Todd from the whip was so that Kek wouldn't have to administer the lashes. "If it pleases the Albatross," Kek said and walked back to his cabin.

He heard Ryo talking to his brother and Marik, but continued down the hall to their room. He undressed and returned to bed, waiting for Ryo. When Ryo did return to bed, Kek wrapped his arms around Ryo's shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Ryo sighed. "What did my brother tell you?"

"He mentioned your mother."

"That wanker. Yes, my mother died when I was thirteen and Bakura was almost seventeen. From what the aunties say, it was her first drink of it and she was dead in the morning."

"So you took to the stage?"

"We stayed at the brothel for almost a year. There was enough work, honest work, to do there to keep ourselves useful, but one night a client thought I'd be a better option and tried to drag me into one of the rooms. Bakura gave him a ruby necklace, and we had to leave town. We performed on the street for a while and realized we could make enough pretty polly at it to survive, so we bought our wagon and stole the stage like it was our birthrights."

"Do you miss it? The stage?"

Ryo poked Kek's ribs. "Not as much as I miss bathing with fresh water."

* * *

"We should make this game more interesting." Marik smiled.

Ryo placed a single card face down, shaking his head. "My brother's the only one dumb enough to wager against you, Marik."

"Sod off."

"It's just for fun, Ryo. What's the harm in it?" Marik asked.

"The harm in it is that you never do anything without intention."

Kek snorted. "What would you wager?"

Marik raised an eyebrow and smirked. "See, now that's the spirit." He pulled a small, green bottle from his pocket, two inches tall and narrow. "Rosemary oil. It's nice to have, being eight months out to sea."

"And what would you have me wager?" Kek asked.

"Something of equal value – like another jar of that coconut oil you mix up."

Ryo felt his mouth drop. "You went through all three jars already? Nine hells, when do you two sleep?"

Bakura smirked, setting two cards down. "Plenty of time for that when we're dead."

"I'll take the bet," Kek said.

Marik, who was acting as dealer, took everyone's discarded cards and dealt new ones. "All right. Let's see how the cards favor us."

"Just to be clear," Ryo interrupted, "this is a bet between the two of you. Bakura and I do not count as a win for our respective teams because I don't want to be part of the bet."

Marik dismissed Ryo with a slight hand gesture. "That works in my favor. When does Bakura ever win?"

"Sod off."

Ryo checked his cards. He had a pair of sevens so he folded. The other three stayed. Marik grinned. "The moment of truth."

Kek grinned. "Straight."

Marik chuckled. "Full House. Now, about that oil."

Marik reached out his hand, but before Kek could fetch Marik's prize, Bakura stood up and slammed his cards on the table. "The devotchkas love me!"

Ryo glanced at Bakura's hand and laughed. "Marik, he's got all the queens. You lost."

Marik dropped his hand and his jaw. "Bakura, why on earth didn't you fold? I would have won."

"Why the hell would I fold? _I won_."

"But you made me lose the bet, you idiot!"

"Who cares? I won." Bakura shrugged.

Marik slapped his forehead. "That oil was for both of us, who cares if you win?"

"A man's got to have his priorities, lovey."

"That's exactly what I'm trying to explain to _you_."

Kek leaned close to Ryo. "We're not going to fight like this in eight years, are we?"

Ryo snorted. "These two were fighting like this the very first night Bakura brought Marik back to the wagon." After Ryo spoke, a pain cramped his chest. He and Kek wouldn't get eight years, not if the Trial truly killed him.

Marik and Bakura both stood, spitting insults into each other's faces and poking their fingers into each other's chests. Kek smacked the table twice to get their attention. "Hey!"

"What?" They both turned and snapped the question at the same time.

"Let's trade."

Marik looked at Kek. "What?"

"Let's trade. I still want the rosemary oil. I'll trade you for it."

Marik paused a moment as Kek's suggestion sunk in. He and Bakura wore comic expressions, as if both were disappointed to have their argument resolved so quickly. However, Marik still nodded and handed Kek the rosemary oil. "Very well."

After Kek handed him the jar, Marik turned to leave. "Come, my thief, I think you need a lesson in priorities."

Bakura snorted. "Trust me, my prince, I'm not learning a damn thing tonight that you've haven't already taught me."

Ryo sighed as they left, trying to tidy up cards and rum bottles.

Kek plopped down to their bed, unbuttoning his shirt. "How did you stay sane locked in a wagon with those two for all those years?"

"Same way I deal with them on a ship in the middle of an ocean – rum and beer."

Kek laughed. Ryo sat beside him and teased his collar bone. "You said eight years, you asked if we'd fight eight years from now."

"Did I say the wrong number?" Kek asked, running his fingers through the fringe of hair spilling out over Ryo's bandana (the rest locked away in a braid).

Ryo shook his head. "No."

Kek blinked a moment, then his expression changed as he realized what he'd said. "Oh . . . I'm sorry."

"It was nice, thinking about where we'd be eight years from now, even if the thought only lasted half a moment."

Kek wagged the bottle of rosemary oil beneath Ryo's glazzies. "I have a present for you. I know you feel self-conscious. Thought this might make you more comfortable." He popped the cork off of the top and dabbed the aromatic oil on the tip of his finger. "May I put some on you?"

A soft laugh filtered out of Ryo's mouth. "I've told you a hundred times you don't have to ask when it comes to these things." He removed his shirt and pants.

Kek traced the contours of Ryo's inner thighs. "But when I ask you, your cheeks deepen to the color of champagne."

A little sigh slipped out of Ryo's mouth as Kek ran his finger over Ryo's white skin. "A priest anointing me with oil. Kind of serious, don't you think?"

Kek capped the bottle and lowered his lips down to kiss Ryo's stomach. "I don't think my role as a priest counts for much these days."

"I don't know." Ryo hitched his body up to greet Kek's lips. "It feels like the beginning of a quest to me."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Ryo woke to a dark room. The strange, mechanical clock Kek kept on the wall near the wardrobe read four a.m. Ryo usually didn't wake up until five thirty, however, he wanted to swim while the water was cool and clean himself without anyone paying attention. His swimming made the sailors nervous. Apparently, an Albatross was no match for merfolk while in the water. Ryo leaned over and kissed Kek who grunted and turned on his side, heavy sleeper that he was. Ryo smiled and found a pair of pants to wear.

Before jumping overboard, Ryo removed his pants and unbraided his hair. The ocean water puckered Ryo's skin and forced him to shake with the chill, but he loved the feeling. The scents of iodine and salt and seaweed smelled pleasant when fresh and cold on his body; nonetheless, by evening he'd be complaining about his stiff hair and itchy skin. It was still worth feeling clean for the day, so Ryo bathed once a week in the ocean, and out of a pot the rest of the week.

When finished, he dressed, but left his hair down to dry. He snuck back into his room, lighting a lamp, knowing that it wouldn't wake his heavy-sleeping lover. Ryo busied himself preparing for a day in the galley. He moved slow, a headache constantly plagued him from being dehydrated and drinking mostly beer (the last of their water so thick with algae and mosquito larva that it needed to be shot like liquor and chased with port). They'd see land at any time, Ryo almost held his breath as he waited for the call. They supped exclusively on bone soup thickened with the last broken pieces of weevil-infested tact – the goats and chickens all slaughtered months ago and even the last of the beans consumed the week before.

Ryo forced an jade comb through his hair, the comb a gift from Kek during their last shore leave. He combed his hair until the teeth ran smooth through the stands of white without snagging. Ryo frowned as he touched his combed hair. The heavy tassels used to fall through his fingers like silk ribbons, but the ocean salt kept his hair coarse. Ryo looked over the bed at Kek and the yellow flames of hair scattered around his scalp. Ryo sat on the bed and reached out to touched the deranged halo; he loved the coarse texture on Kek's hair, just not his own.

Kek sighed at Ryo's touched. He tilted his chin and parted his lips; even asleep, he looked like he wanted to be kissed, so much so that Ryo couldn't help but bend forward and press their lips together. Kek sucked in a gasp of air. He opened his eyes, reached out a hand to Ryo's cheek, and raised his head to kiss Ryo harder.

Ryo started. "Sorry, I didn't think I'd wake you. You're usually as good as dead when you're sleeping."

"I was dreaming of you," Kek said. "Watching you bathe and comb your hair, and when you drew near my side I wanted you to kiss me so bad that when you did – I woke up." He smiled and pulled Ryo onto the mattress, straddling him. He looked down at Ryo, plum colored glazzies half lidded as he ran his thick fingers through Ryo's damp hair. "Stop worrying about your hair."

"Easy for you to say." Ryo snorted like his was miffed, but his smile gave away his act. "Your livelihood was never dependent on your looks."

"What's for breakfast? Steak and eggs?"

"And pie." Ryo winked at him before scrunching his face in disgust. "Actually, I'm warming up yesterday's bone soup and adding more grog to the broth. I hope we spot land before lunch, because I'm running out of bones to flavor the grog."

Kek nodded. "Well . . ." He grinned. "That means you don't have to get out of bed for a while yet, right?"

Ryo wore a sly look. "Maybe, why do you ask?"

Kek answered by pulling Ryo's combed hair and nipping his collarbone. Ryo closed his glazzies and panted in Kek's ear. Kek reached down, stroking Ryo until he was hard. Ryo wiggled out of his pants so Kek had more room to maneuver. He wrapped his slender, white, white legs around Kek's scared back. "I can't, I need more," Ryo begged. They ran out of oil two weeks ago and had been making do with hand jobs and the occasional blow jobs ever since.

Kek shimmied lower, Ryo's legs still clinging to him, and covered Ryo's dick with his mouth, taking _more_ to mean a blow job.

Ryo sighed, it was good, but not what he craved. He growled in frustration. "I want _you_."

Kek stopped bobbing his head and looked up at Ryo, his purple glazzies questioning.

Ryo stared back at Kek, his hair tickled his shoulders and back. "Um, you know."

"Yeah." Kek nodded. "But we're out of oil."

"Lick me."

"Will that be good enough?"

Ryo spread his legs wide on the bed. "Kek."

Kek sighed, knowing Ryo was dodging the question, but also knowing Ryo usually got what he wanted. During these moments, Ryo didn't mind being the Albatross. Kek dropped his head even lower, licking Ryo's entrance. Ryo gasped, clenching Kek's hair and kicking at Kek's shoulders as he squirmed his body from the horror show feeling of Kek's mouth. Ryo muttered the names of his favorite seven gods as he circled his body in-sync with Kek's tongue.

Kek sucked two his fingers and slipped them inside Ryo, taking more time than normal to tease him. He went back to licking Ryo, and Ryo covered his face with his pillow to prevent the entire ship from knowing what they were doing. Unable to bare it another moment, Ryo sat up, grabbed Kek's penis, and sucked, allowing his saliva to coat the length of Kek's shaft. Kek exhaled, pushing himself into Ryo's body. Ryo turned his head, grabbing the sheets below him. He tried to relax, it'd been years since he had to make due with saliva instead of some sort of grease or oil. His face burned with each thrust, but not as much as his insides.

"Should I stop?" Kek asked.

"Don't stop," Ryo insisted, but Kek was too thick and Ryo couldn't quite adjust to the feeling. The pressure was right, Kek hit the right area, but the friction kept Ryo feeling on the verge of pleasure instead of in the center of it. What little lubrication the spit provided soon absorbed into their skin and all Ryo could do was try and disguise his grunts of discomfort into satisfied noises, but unlike his past lovers, Kek paid too much attention and knew Ryo too well. He pulled out, to Ryo's relief, but Ryo still protested. "I said don't stop."

"Ryo." Kek sighed. He stood up and walked to the wardrobe, digging through the junk piled on the bottom.

"Lovey, what are you doing?"

"Looking for the first jars we used. I save them so I can clean them and reuse them. I can probably make do with what's left in them."

Ryo smiled as Kek found three older jars and ran his fingers along their inner lining, coating himself with a thin layer of oil. When he'd done all he could, he went back to the bed and pressed himself back inside Ryo.

Ryo bit his lip, sore from the first half of their lovemaking, but even the light application of oil worked better than nothing and Ryo was able to relax into the sensation enough to enjoy it. "You have me spoiled," he whispered, looking up at Kek.

"No less than you deserve."

A tiny laugh slipped from Ryo's mouth. Kek spit into his hand and that was enough lubrication for him to stroke Ryo. Ryo squeezed his muscles; he still felt hot inside, but wanted the overbearing sensation consuming him. Ryo held his breath as he came and then sank into the mattress, his body limp. Kek continued to thrust until he also came and sank on top of Ryo. They wrapped their arms around each other, nuzzling into each other's bodies. "You'll stay for a moment, right?" Kek asked.

Ryo nodded. "I'll stay beside you until the very last moment."

The breath caught in Kek's throat as he realized the double implication of Ryo's words. They held each other hard, as if the strength of their arms could keep them together even after fate decided to pull them apart.

* * *

Ryo sat on a stool, frowning at the ale-colored broth simmering on the stove. He turned his head when he heard Marik's and Bakura's voices singing. Their song, _Frog Kissn'_ , grew louder until it, along with its singers, burst into the galley. Bakura held a giant turtle in his hands. He plopped it upside down on the prep table. "Oi, Ryo, drop this unlucky wanker in the pot."

"Uh . . . Bakura, how did you get your hands on a turtle?"

"Caught it on the line."

"Yes, and it only took him a week to do it," Marik chided.

"Well, if your nagging didn't frighten all the sea life away I could have caught a mermaid by now."

Marik smirked, rooting a hand on his hip. "And what, my dear thief, would you do with a mermaid?"

Bakura scratched his mop of silver hair, the coarser texture and deeper tan had somehow improved his unkempt appearance and Ryo was a little jealous of his brother for it. Bakura grinned at Marik. "I'd drop her in the pot. I'm starving."

Ryo winced. "Bakura, he's still alive. Kill him."

"You're the cook – you kill him."

Ryo sighed. "Bakura."

Marik laughed. "Well don't look at me. Just the fact that I'm excited to eat this thing shows how wretched our living conditions have become. I refused to do any sort of work while on the ship that's not navigation."

"Unlike before, when you were always doing manual labor."

Marik shrugged.

Bakura snorted and turned back to his brother. "If you don't kill them, what happened to the goats and chickens?"

"Kek killed them for me."

"Ryo, you're hopeless." He searched Ryo's knife collection until he found a machete and used it to kill and shell the turtle.

Ryo turned away, but once the bottom shell was off, exposing the meat and organs of the turtle, Ryo took his own knife and began preparing the turtle of the soup pot. "I pray to all twenty-seven gods that we find land today."

"I'll pray to my old God and all of yours as well for the same." Marik crossed his arms over his chest. "This whole pirate thing stopped being fun about three months ago. Not even the thought of treasure helps."

"You both nag like tits." Bakura laughed. "This is great, I should have gone on account years ago and left you sobbing devotchkas on the stage."

"Technically you never went on account," Ryo noted as he dropped chunks of turtle meat into the broth.

Before Bakura retorted, Kek walked into the galley. "We'll reach the shore by evening."

"That's great." Ryo exhaled. "I didn't want to try and stretch this turtle for more that one meal."

* * *

They docked near a river, the crew thanking the Albatross for their luck (though really it had more to do with Marik's navigating). As soon as they set up suitable shelter for the night, they boiled water to drink. Several sailors used nets to fish and that evening they sat around bonfires eating roasted fish and wild figs and drinking both water and beer. Ryo snuck away to find a good spot in which to bathe, excited at the thought of fresh water surrounding his skin. He found Marik already washing himself. The three of them often bathed together during their travels, so Ryo walked up to Marik. "Where's Bakura? I thought the two of you would be hiding under a bush somewhere by now."

"He's off with your idiot lover on some ridiculous scavenger hunt. Kek had a list. I suppose we can both guess the nature of their hunt." Marik frowned. "Look at my elbows. They're rough as a peasant's. I swear, after we find the gold I'm soaking myself in every fragrant oil available on the market – and a few that aren't that I know how to get my hands on."

Ryo nodded, but after they found their treasure and the Hunters stole Kek, Ryo knew he wouldn't care about his appearance – the only thing in his mind would be meeting Marik's sister and finding out if there really was a chance to save his love. Ryo pushed the thought away, and splashed cold water onto his white skin. "My skin isn't so bad, it's my hair that needs conditioned for a solid week."

"Don't get me started on what sea water does to one's hair." Marik's hands reached up to his hair and his used his fingers to comb through the gold strands.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryo noticed Bakura sneak up behind Marik. Bakura raised a finger to his lips to tell Ryo to keep silent. Ryo continued washing himself, ignoring his brother. He nudged his dagger into Marik's throat. "Don't move."

Bakura had the expression of one trying hard not to laugh, but his suede voice stayed steady as he said, "I just want your shinnies, but if you scream I'll spill all the lovely, red, red krovvy from your throat."

"Do it." Marik smirked. "Then I don't have to deal with my hair anymore."

Bakura rolled his eyes, but said his next line in a smooth, even tone. "I don't take orders. Just stand there like a good princeling and I'll be gone to let you get ready for whatever pompous feast you're attending tonight."

Marik started chuckling. "Actually, it's not that grand a feast, just some filthy pirates getting drunk beside their fires."

"There are worse parties, you know. Like the feasts they have for arranged marriages."

Marik calmed his laughter, but a large grin still masked his face. "Move that knife. I want to look at you."

"I don't take orders, lovey. Gods, you're dim." Bakura removed the knife and spun Marik around. "But I wouldn't mind a better look at you, so look back if it pleases your highness."

Marik looked at Bakura. "It does please me."

Bakura leaned forward, his nose almost brushing against Marik's. "Is that what you wanted to say, all those years ago?"

"I'll never tell."

Ryo gave them a few claps and then stepped out of the river, drying himself as best he could and dressing. He was as anxious to wash his linens as he'd been to wash in the river. He slipped back into the foliage to give them privacy, but before he reached camp, a pair of hands grabbed him from behind.

This time Ryo didn't struggle; he laughed.

Kek spoke into his ear. "I, um . . . I . . . I can't remember what I said. I was really just walking that night, but when I saw you I kidnapped you on a whim because you were fascinating to look at." Kek paused and then continued. "Later, when I wiped the red off your lips and got my first proper look at you – that's the moment I realized you were the first true and real thing I'd ever seen in my life, a light in my twisted world of shadows and pain." He released Ryo and stared at him.

Ryo pulled in a long breath, his heart shaking in his chest. "First of all, you and my brother are idiots. Second, your line was ' _I've found, over the years, that the best hostages often have body guards that help them sneak through the back during a pirate raid'_. Third, that was the most beautiful improvisation I've ever heard in my life."

"You remember all that?"

Ryo grinned. "Bakura and I never forget lines. It infuriated Marik and the other actors."

Kek shrugged. "Well, what I really wanted to say that night was, _I want to touch your hair because it's the color of moonlight sifting through sea foam._ "

Ryo looked down and toyed with the tip of his braid.

Kek spoke low and soft. "I want to make you my hostage again tonight."

"I swear to my entire pantheon of gods that if you _ask_ , I will say no."

Kek pick Ryo up and carried him bridal style through the trees until the reached a small clearing where Kek had built a lean-to and a small campfire. He set Ryo down on a fur blanket and started unbuttoning his shirt. "I won't ask tonight."

Even just rinsing off in the cold river made Ryo feel more confident. Each time Kek bent low to kiss his body, Ryo arched himself up to meet Kek's lips instead of shying away. Kek caught on to Ryo's willingness and allowed his lips and tongue to linger on Ryo's skin. Kek grabbed a bowl and dabbed his fingers into a beige cream.

"What's that?" Ryo asked.

"There's a seed native to this area, the inside is soft and you can make a poultice from it. It won't be as good as oil, but it'll be much better than last time."

"Last time was good," Ryo said.

"This will be better," Kek insisted.

Ryo opened his mouth to argue, but Kek slipped his fingers inside Ryo's body and curved them up, rubbing hard against the inside of Ryo. He dropped his head back, grinding his teeth against the multiple shocks of pleasure snaking their way to his brain. Hardly a moment later, Kek scooped a generous dollop of cream with his fingers and smeared the raw, woody smelling ointment on himself before slamming hard into Ryo's ass.

Ryo's mouth went dry as he panted and moaned Kek's name into the canopy. It felt like a runaway carriage ride through a bad path, wild and reckless and out of his control and thrilling. Ryo held onto Kek's neck and tried to catch his breath. Sweat garnished Kek's forehead, burning gold drops that reflected the firelight. "Will you remember this? Long after I'm gone will you remember all the times I loved you?"

Ryo crossed his arms over his face, trying to hide the tears that sprung unbidden to the corners of his eyes. "Yes."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

They built rafts and forded through the wide, flat river taking them deeper into land. They had to use ropes and pulleys to force their rafts against the current. They camped in the evenings. Ryo's job as cook remained. He cured snake meat for them to eat throughout the day along with jackfruit, lychees, and mangoes. In the evenings they ate fish from the river. A few times Bakura managed to catch an antelope. Ryo had wanted to see one, hearing the stories Kek told him at night when they stood on the deck and watched the stars, but he hadn't wanted to see it with krovvy crusting around the cut in its throat. Kek promised that he'd show him a living heard one day and Ryo smiled although he knew the promise was a lie. They made love every night as if they could somehow make up for all the times that'd be stolen from them. As they traveled deeper inland, the forest changed to jungle. Marik's navigation through the different tribute rivers cutting across the Hook became less useful and the directions on Ryo's amulet were the only reason they didn't get lost.

Ryo sat near the campfire, cutting wild onions they found for stew to use up the scraps of the last antelope Bakura caught. One of the sailors, a dark lad, barely eighteen named Sidd came to bring Ryo a basket of edible roots they'd dug up for the stew. "Stop that, Albatross. When the time comes, we'll all fight."

Ryo looked up at Sidd, not understanding what he was saying.

"The tears," he explained. "Ain't right for an Albatross to cry, especially one that's given us a year and a half of sailing without any storms, and no illnesses, and you saved Todd from the shakes, and your companion's already told us treasure's as good as ours. So stop crying, we'll all fight and they won't take the Captain."

Ryo wiped his cheek with his sleeve and realized he'd been crying; he'd been too lost in thought to notice before Sidd mentioned it. "It's just the onions."

"That's a lie."

Ryo frowned. "When they take him no one will fight unless the Captain orders it – make sure everyone is _very_ clear on that."

"But-"

"Don't argue with the Albatross, Sidd."

* * *

As they traveled, a temple began to peak above the foliage in the horizon. Marik pointed to the palace-like structure. "There she is. Legend says that the old king that's buried in that tomb had so much wealth that they mixed gold-dust with sand to form the bricks of his final resting place. See how it glints in the sunlight? I think it's one of the few myths that's true."

"What a bloody waste." Bakura snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "What use is all that wealth if you only show it off while the people starve? That incompetency is how the current Eastern people took over this land."

"Well, suddenly my thief's a scholar." Marik rested his hands on his hips. "You know the intricacies of history and politics now, do you?"

A sour smile graced Bakura's lips. "There's something to be said about common sense, my prince."

Marik grinned. "I suppose I better watch out. You may try a coup."

"Take my prince's throne? Ha, then I could be the King of Thieves."

"That title does seem to suit you, doesn't it?"

Ryo snorted, using a machete to cut through brush that hung too low over the river and threatened the course of their raft. "Don't encourage him, Marik, or he'll have us all calling him that all the time."

The next morning they left their rafts beside the river. They'd drawn as close as they could to the temple by the river and would have to walk for three days to reach their long anticipated treasure. The pirates spent the daylight hours planning how to spend their pretty polly. The heat matted their hair to their heads, mosquito bites poxed their skin, and they hunched forward with the weight of their rucksacks, but everyone held good spirits with the thought of the mountain of gold they'd be able to spend at the brothels or starting their own trading companies – each man had his own ambitions, his own story, some were noble and some debaucherous.

Ryo would have given his share away if it meant keeping Kek beside him. Since there was nothing he could do, however, Ryo spent his days treating their insect bites and doing his best to prepare food with what they could hunt or forage. For Ryo, the three days sped by too quickly and the incredible, gold-gleaming temple sprang up on them like a jaguar aiming for Ryo's throat.

The temple, a splendid legend in the distance, was actually a ruin. The sun set behind the monolith and shadows hid any remaining illusions of splendor caused by the glitter in the bricks. The gold that made the brickwork shine in the sun, also made the structure weak. Sand crumbled from the walls at a slight touch and the entrance was buried under rubble. Putrid green-brown mold grew near the rubble that emitted a strong, musty smell similar to the bottom of the cargo hold only stronger and more acidic.

"I don't like the look of that." Kek frowned at the mold. "It'd probably be best if we didn't breath in that odor anymore. I don't need an entire crew vomiting and fevered."

"There should be another way inside," Marik explained. "The old kings had very grand myths about the afterlife. They'd often put one or more secret passageways in their temples so that the spirits could enter and leave when they needed to."

"And I'm sure they're well hidden, so no use looking in the dark. Let's camp."

Marik nodded. "We'll scout a bit first."

At this Bakura grinned and followed Marik as they disappeared into the verdant foliage. The others set up camp. Ryo made a soup from mushrooms, and afterward found a stream to bathe. Kek always set their tent far from the others, and when Ryo returned from his bath, he found Kek laying inside with a dim-lit lantern. The shaky light cast wavering shadows across his spiced-colored skin. Outside their tent, insects hummed and sang to the stars above them.

Ryo undressed, removing his clothes and his braid. His hair fell around him in kinks and waves and Kek smiled, running his fingers through the soft, white mess.

Ryo held Kek's free hand. "This is the end, isn't it?"

"No, I promise." Kek smiled. "I'll dream of you. Make sure your life is happy, because if you're miserable I will be, too."

Ryo leaned forward, cupping both his hands around Kek's face. "You should know, I'm going to search for you after you get taken away."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from my hero." Kek kept his fingers gracing through Ryo's hair. "But promise that you'll eventually give up and go back to your first mistress."

"True, I love the stage, but nothing on it is real. You are. Prince Charmings are dull, flat characters, but you . . ." Ryo dropped his hands away from Kek's face and close his eyes; he was trembling.

Kek wrapped his arms around Ryo to comfort him.

"No, I'm not going to be sad. Not tonight." Ryo stared at Kek. He held up his hand and Kek rested their palms together so that their scars matched. A smile haunted Ryo's lips and he leaned close. "Kek, may I kiss you?"

Kek's cheeks darkened at the question. He only managed a nod and Ryo leaned in and kissed Kek with opened eyes. They still held their marked hands together as they leaned back into furs and continued kissing.

* * *

The last of the sunlight faded against the other side of the temple. Marik had Bakura naked and pushed against the gold bricks. Bakura rested his cheek against the Temple wall, his nails digging into the gritty bricks for purchase. His silver hair contrasted against the golden sand and his breath huffed hot, raspy, and quick out of his mouth.

"Harder," he insisted as Marik held Bakura's brown hips and pushed into him.

To move faster, Marik wrapped one arm around Bakura's brown belly and supported his weight by pushing against the wall next to Bakura's left hand, only the brick Marik rested his hand on sunk into the temple wall. Marik jerked back, almost losing his balance but holding on to Bakura to keep from falling. The stones they were using to support their weight protested with a harsh, grinding sound as they shifted and slid away, revealing a narrow, dark passageway. Marik and Bakura stood and blinked at what they'd accidentally done. A tepid breeze blew past them and into the passage whose air felt silted dead.

"Hope she didn't see this part," Marik said with a flat tone.

"What?" Bakura shifted in Marik's arms so he could look over his shoulder.

"My sister."

Bakura scrunched his face in a sour expression.

Marik smirked at Bakura and grabbed their slacks from the pile they had shoved near the base of the temple. "Let's go explore."

"What a bad time to find treasure," Bakura grumbled as he grabbed his clothes.

When dressed, they lit a lantern and stepped into the dark hall. Their footsteps echoed in their ears, but otherwise the silence covered them thick like moss. The passageway sloped deeper into the earth, after a few minutes of walking they came to an area where the trail split off into three directions.

"Let's just go straight so we can find our way back easy." Bakura shrugged and Marik nodded to agree with him.

They walked a good way, about a mile, and every time the trail split they went straight until they reached a dead end. Marik smirked. "Perhaps we could continue where we left off and get lucky again."

Bakura smirked, touching the walls. "Or we could just find it. Not as fun, but less frustrating when we have to stop." Bakura's fingers, brown like rye crust, probed and pressed against the stones. "Aren't there supposed to be deadly traps and what have you in these ancient temples?"

"Yes," Marik agreed. "Honestly it makes me nervous that we haven't found any."

"Well, if this proves to be the one trap we find and I die – I want you to strip my corpse and arrange it in a lewd position so when future adventures find my skeleton I confuse them."

"Your ability to be crude even in the most grave situations is why I've stuck with you all these years."

Bakura paused against the wall, winking at Marik. "Oh is that why? Here I thought it was because of my body."

"It's a nice bonus, but I promise, it's your facetious spirit that I really admire."

"Good, now I can eat all the pies I want and get plump without worrying."

Marik pointed to the wall. "Only after we find the treasure. Otherwise the baboochkas won't pay a single bill of cutter for you."

Bakura laughed and looked around. "Found it."

Marik tilted his head.

Bakura pointed to a gilded chamber pot. "The dead don't need chamber pots."

"Ah, but the people of those days believed they did."

"Still, it's in an odd place." Bakura lifted the pot revealing a switch in the floor.

"Bakura, that could be a trap."

"Or an entrance. Only one way to find out."

Marik raised out his hand. "Don't—"

But it was too late. Bakura kicked the switch with his foot and more metallic and stone grinding shook the chamber in which they stood. This time the door opened into a wide chamber.

Marik smacked Bakura's shoulder. "Don't ever do anything like that again."

Bakura smiled and touched Marik's tawny cheek. "Worried?"

"Of course I am. You're stupid and prone to get into trouble."

Bakura snorted. "You're just mad that I was right and you were wrong."

Marik grabbed Bakura's hair and bit his bottom lip, sucking on it afterward. "You are my subject and you obey me. Stop sass-talking."

Bakura slipped his hands below Marik's belt line, pulling and tugging at Marik's ass with his broad fingers. They stumbled through the entrance, neither one of them thinking about traps; rather, their interrupted lovemaking filled their minds as they kissed and undressed. Bakura fell backwards and they landed into a pile of golden polly. The only light came from the lantern that Marik left of the floor in the chamber outside, but the wavy rays struck the polished surface of an endless expanse of bronze, silver, gold, and jewels. Some of the treasure was in the raw form of bars or coins, much of it was shaped and sculpted into jewelry, armor, or decorative items and statues honoring the gods.

"Bolshy yarbles." Bakura managed between Marik's assaults of kisses and bites.

"Yes, yes, real horror show," Marik muttered, mocking Bakura with his word choice. He didn't seem interested in the treasure. Pressing his mouth into Bakura's skin with an odd sort of need.

"I know you grew up around treasure, lovey, but this is a sight to me."

"It can't make you happy," Marik growled into Bakura's neck as he bit him.

Bakura took Marik's chin and forced his lover to face him. "We're building a theater with our share, not a castle, not a dynasty with rules or cruel traditions."

The concern hiding behind Marik's eyes left, like a shadow broken by dawn. "You know." He smiled. "We've never fucked on a mountain of gold before."

Bakura brushed his lips against Marik's. "A good story to tell later."

They used their clothes as padding against the hard coins. Bakura was still slick with the oil they used before they went exploring and Marik entered him easy and moved like fluid. Each thrust pushed Bakura into the coins and they clinked and jingled with their movements. There was a stale smell in the air, but the heat of their bodies and their sweat brought a heated, animal life to the dead chamber. Bakura's shouts echoed like ghosts' wails, and when they each finished they lay together and panted, admiring the goblets, necklaces, and shields piled amongst the treasure.

"You're right." Bakura teased as he caught his breath. "Real horror show."

Marik nuzzled into Bakura's shoulder. "Let's just go to sleep and show this to everyone in the morning."

"Yeah." Bakura sighed. "We should give Ryo one more night."

Marik blinked his eyes open and frowned. "Ah yes. Now that the treasure is ours the real quest begins."

* * *

It wasn't passionate, their last night together. Some of the nights before had been desperate, the kind of scene found in some devotchka's novel, but not their last night together. Ryo was inside Kek, slipping over Kek's belly, a white moth drawn to the bronze fire of Kek's body. They held each other tight and moved in a gentle rhythm.

"You're mine and I love you." Ryo whispered as he held Kek close.

Kek's breath caught in his throat at Ryo's words. He leaned closer, inhaling the musky scent of Ryo's body. He kissed Ryo's collarbone, licking salt and sweat from the white skin.

Ryo sighed. "I love you so much it hurts. My fingers, my toes, everything aches."

Their pace stayed steady. Kek climaxed but Ryo held back as long as he could. He wanted to ingrain the feeling of Kek's body into his own. Even after he finished he didn't withdraw; he stayed inside Kek until he was soft and laid on his lover's chest, tracing his fingers along Kek's collarbone. Their sweat grew cold and Ryo pulled the furs around their bodies. Kek trembled and Ryo realized that it wasn't from chill. "Kek?"

"I'm angry," Kek explained. The sun was gone, leaving them in a world of ghostly firelight, shadows, and locust song.

"I'm angry, too. All the same, you won't let me kill them when they come for you."

"Kill them? If they could die I would have broken my vows long before meeting you and slaughtered them all."

"But I'm the Albatross, so maybe I'd have better luck with the sods."

"If our situations were reversed, would you let me risk it?"

"No, that's why I'll keep my promise to you." Ryo sighed, squeezing Kek harder.

"You're an actor. Do you sing?" Kek asked.

"Yes lovey, I can sing and play a dozen different instruments. It's like our lines for the stage, if Bakura and I hear something, it's in our heads for just about forever."

Kek brushed clay colored fingers over Ryo's marble white cheek. "So you'll always remember my voice? You'll remember every time I said I love you?"

A bitter laugh escaped Ryo's lips. "Yes, I'll remember your voice and your words; every good morning, every what's for dinner, every time you begged for more in bed, every whispered _I love you_. Kek, you have been burned into me and no amount of booze or Draught or even torture could ever wipe the slate clear." Ryo felt himself shaking as well; helpless rage welled up tight in chest and the pressure of it made his limbs quake.

Kek kissed Ryo's temple. "I'm glad we're so bound – I in your memories, and you in my dreams."

"If that's the only way we can be together then that's how we shall be together." Ryo sucked in a sharp breath that shuddered in his chest. "At least until I find you again."

Kek changed the subject by asking, "Ryo, would you sing for me?"

Ryo sang _Spancil Hill_ and _Wild Mountain Thyme_ and _The Ballad of Barbara Allen,_ he chose soft, melancholy songs because they were the only ones his heart could bear. They didn't sleep; they held each other and Ryo sang until dawn lit the sky gold like treasure, and that's when Marik and Bakura came saying they found a way into the Temple of a long dead king and his treasures.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Kek kept to the back of the group, holding Ryo's hand as they walked. As the crew shuffled into the hidden passageway, Kek held Ryo back. "Let's sneak away."

Kek watch Ryo's face light up at the notion. Delicate blue shadows clung below his ocean-green eyes because they hadn't slept, but Kek still thought his lover was beautiful. Ryo often complained about his hair and skin from the sea salt, but the wind blown hair, bound in a rope of braid, changed Ryo's look from that of a princess to something more wild – a stallion, a unicorn, a kirin, something magical and free and real. The land and jungle around them stretched out flat before them, but a tall mound crowned with brown stone sat near the temple and they climbed it and stood on the rock floor sitting flushed with the canopy.

"You don't want to see the treasure?" Ryo asked.

Kek held both his hands. "I found my treasure a long time ago. He pressed the scar on his hand to Ryo's matching scar. "I love you, Ryo."

"Maybe they won't come."

"I still love you."

"I want to go to the North and drink mead with you. Won't I look horror show in dyed fur?"

"North, South, East, West, The Islands, The End of the World, Together, Separate, it doesn't matter – I love you."

He could tell, by Ryo's face, that Ryo tried to press everything inside himself. His cheeks and forehead darkened coral, not from a blush but from holding his breath too hard. Despite his best efforts, the tears and sobs leaked out of his eyes and mouth. Kek leaned forward and kissed the tears on his cheeks.

"This is bollocks," Ryo cried. "Bolshy, sodding, yarbles. How do you even know? Marik's sister could be barmy. We're going to grab this treasure and go North and I'll sing to you in front of a hearth – happier songs where the hero saves his love and they're always, always together. That's the kind of story I want to sing."

"I haven't only dreamed of you. I've dreamed of this, too. Men aren't suppose to be oracles, but . . . I've always trusted my dreams. The Hunters are already here." Kek kissed him, and he knew he was kissing Ryo goodbye. "Ryo, I love you."

Ryo kissed him back, squeezing their scared palms together. "I love you, Kek. I love you. I love you. I love you. Don't leave me."

He could see them now. Tall figures, faces hidden beneath dark purple cloaks secured around their necks by golden chains. He gave Ryo's hand one last squeeze and his lips one last kiss before pulling away. "I'll go," he said, loud so they heard him.

He couldn't see their faces and they didn't speak; they rarely spoke. They surrounded him and he glared into the shadows of their hoods. His jaw clenched, his fists clenched, but he didn't lash out because if he did, Ryo would join him in the fight. Kek didn't need Marik's letter to know that Ryo would die if they fought – he'd seen the vision himself in nightmares – nightmares he would never accept as a possible reality. So he let go of Ryo's hand, though it killed him to hear the lost and rueful moan from Ryo's mouth when their fingers lost contact, and he stepped towards the nearest Hunter. "I'll go willingly. Twenty years . . . is a long time to run from God."

They imprisoned his wrists in manacles connected by a loose chain and led him away. Quite, simple, it didn't seemed right for him to walk away from Ryo so casually. They followed the small foot path that curved around the beds of brown stone and back down into the foliage proper. Kek looked over his shoulder so he could watch Ryo until they dropped out of sight. As they circled down the small hill, he heard Ryo scream his name.

"Kek!"

Kek looked up and Ryo was on his knees and above Kek on a little cliff of brown stone. Ryo took a dagger and for half a moment, Kek feared Ryo would do something violent. Instead, he brought the edge behind his head and sliced through his hair at the base of his braid. The blue bandana fell away and fluttered to the ground. Only the rouge tuff of fringe hair remained, framing Ryo's face in strips that ran almost chin-length; the rest of his foam-white hair spiked close to his scalp, the braid hung in his hand.

"I love you!" Ryo tossed the braid down, it writhed like a white snake as it sank to where Kek stood.

He caught it, wrapping the rope of hair around his scarred hand. "Goodnight."

"Sweet dreams."

Tears dampened Ryo's cheeks, but he wasn't sobbing anymore. Kek admired how strong he looked at that moment; it made Kek's heart flutter. The Hunters tugged at Kek's manacle and he followed them. He expected them to backtrack towards the river, but they went north. They walked the entire day, only stopping at noon to feed Kek a bread similar to tact but darker and filled with nuts and seeds. He also expected them to camp after dark, but they didn't. They lit torches and continued through the jungle. Kek kept an eye out for Tigers, but never saw eyes glowing from the low brush, nor did he hear the owls or locusts that sang at night, not even a wandering snake or cobra. He stared at the Hunters, their faces always cloaked behind their violet hoods. "The mantises won't even crawl on you. You're no servants of God."

No response, not even a shift of a hood. Kek wanted to snap their necks, as he'd done so many times before, and run back to Ryo. It was dark and he and Ryo should be in a tent with a warm fire, making love under fur blankets as frogs and insects serenaded them. He squeezed the white rope of hair twined around his hand. As he looked at the piece of Ryo he carried with him, his eyes softened and some of the tension left his jaw. They didn't stop until the moon centered the sky, feeding Kek more bread and water, though they didn't consume any themselves.

They kept the same routine. Marching all day, one break when the sun was high; marching all night, one break when the moon was high. Three days and nights they marched until a different river and a different barge greeted them. After three straight days walking, Kek eyes lay half-lidded over his view and his head dropped. His feet shuffled in a slow and steady rhythm that matched the Hunters as they lead him by the chain connecting his manacle. The only part of Kek that maintained any vibrance was the hand holding Ryo's hair. He clung to the braid as he walked half asleep. The Hunters led him to their barge, pushing him to his knees in the center as they surrounded him. As the raft floated down the ocean, Kek managed to drag his eyes fully open to give one last, longing gaze to the jungle, but then his lids drooped shut and he was asleep.

He dreamed of Ryo.

* * *

Ryo watched Kek leave and stayed kneeling against the brown stone for a long time afterward. Bakura found him. He stayed quiet, kneeling near Ryo and resting a hand on Ryo's shoulder. "What the bloody hells happened to your hair?"

"It was all I could do."

"Don't you want to see the treasure?"

Ryo shook his head no.

"We've divvied it up into our proper shares. We'll leave the brunt of it here to fetch afterward. Some blokes are taking their full shares now and will leave at the first port, Jannard, Cliff, Otter, most of them are following us East."

Ryo swallowed, his mind numb. "Why?"

"They want to help their Captain and his Albatross."

Ryo gazed out to the trees. "Tell them to take their fortunes and go."

Bakura snorted. "You tell them. Do you want to at least go back to camp?"

Ryo nodded and allowed Bakura to lead him to his tent. He winced at the sight of it. "I haven't slept alone since . . ." He ran a hand through his short flurry of hair.

Bakura didn't say anything; he nudged Ryo inside the tent, lighting a lantern and making sure Ryo settled. "Do you want to talk about it?" Bakura asked.

Ryo sat with a fur wrapped around his shoulders, staring vacant at the hide tent wall. "He didn't want the others to see, didn't want fighting. One second we were standing and the next we were surrounded, but nothing happened he just walked away. He just walked away and I just stood there, Bakura. I swore to protect him but I just let him walk away to his death."

"We'll go East."

Ryo nodded. "How long will it take?"

"Should take the lot of us about two months to get to the Oracle's temple."

"Won't it be harder to sneak into Marik's homeland with more people?"

"An acting troupe of fifteen is large, but not uncommon, and we have the finances to buy all the props we need on the way."

"Acting troupe? Huh, yes, suppose that's clever. Can any of them act?"

Bakura smirked. "Act like rogues and pirates and soldiers? I'm sure they can manage, but you'll be a shoddy Maria with hair like that."

"I can afford a good wig." Ryo's lips twitched, his best effort at a smile.

Bakura scuffled Ryo's short hair. "We leave at dawn."

Ryo lay into his furs, but didn't close his eyes. He stared at the flame in the lantern. He didn't move except the slight shift of his chest when breathing or the subtle blinking of his tired green eyes. When the lantern's wick burned low and the sky outside the tent lightened to silver-gray, Ryo sat up and began packing his gear.

The twenty of them back tracked to their rafts. They sailed with the river current, so they made it back to _La Muerta_ in good time. They restocked the ship with fresh water, roots, fruit, and cured snake and antelope meat for their journey back to shore. Since they were going East, a route inconsiderable when Kek was on the ship, they'd only needed to ration supplies for less than three weeks.

Geoffrey acted as captain in Kek's absence, but the crew knew their roles and the title was honorific more than practical. Ryo stayed in the galley; he slept on a pallet near the hearth. Marik showed up one morning as Ryo rationed out portions of snake meat and mango for first mess's breakfast.

"Isn't there a story about a girl that slept near the hearth cinders?"

"This isn't a story, Marik. No fairy is going to help me. I won't dance in glass shoes. Tease me if you want, but I refuse to sleep in that bed without him."

"Do you want to trade rooms?"

"I want to sleep on my mat near the hearth."

"It bothers the others. The winds have been rough and they worry for you."

"Tell them I'm fine."

"No doubt I have a gilded tongue, but I can't convince them you're fine with those shadows lining your eyes and what little hair you have left hanging limp and greasy in your face."

Ryo looked up and blinked at Marik, strands of hair screening his vision because it did hang in his eyes. "What direction does the wind blow?"

"East."

"I'll wash my hair tomorrow morning, but I'm staying here at night."

"Remember, Ryo, they won't give him the Trial until he reaches the main temple. That will takes months of travel for them as well."

"Are you nervous to see your sister after eight years?"

Marik smiled. "No, though it will be a shock to see her children." Marik's smile faded and he sighed. "You don't want to be comforted, I understand. I leave you to your work."

"Tell Bakura to stop worrying about me. I'm not a weeping devotchka falling apart without her lover. I'm keeping my strength up. I have to if I'm going to get Kek back. I'll wash my hair if it eases the crew."

Marik shrugged. "Telling him not to worry would be as productive as telling you to get more sleep." He strolled out of the galley like a cat that lost interest in his hunt of a mouse.

The next morning Ryo did wash his hair, in a bucket on the deck using leaves they brought from the island. When crushed, the sap from the leaf produced a mild lather. The salt water ruined the effect, but the juice still soaked much of the oil from Ryo's hair. He couldn't bathe in the ocean because the winds aggravated the sea into choppy, gray-green spikes.

Bent over his bucket, Ryo noticed a pair of boots walk up beside him. He heard Geoffrey above him. "I know you want us to reach port quick, but if you don't settle the winds we'll crack the mass. As it is, we should probably douse the hearth."

"I can't change the winds," Ryo muttered.

Geoffrey took this to mean that Ryo refused to change them. "Can't find him with a broken ship, Albatross."

Ryo sighed, capitulating to Geoffrey's delusion. "I'll try."

"I've known that boy since he was an angry, mouthy, whelp that only reached my ribs in height. No matter what, I'll help you."

Ryo nodded, drying his hair. "Thank you."

Geoffrey left and Ryo went the captain's quarters to find a change of clothes. The mechanical clock's ticks echoed loud in the empty room. Ryo walked to the bed, memories playing out over his features. He crawled onto the mattress and dropped onto Kek's side, trying to catch any lingering trace of the rum-salt-musk-scent that was Kek. He traced his fingers through their bed furs, but the supple pelts weren't the wiry chaos of Kek's hair. Ryo held his breath, forcing himself to hold together but feeling like every piece of him would riot and blow away in the strong winds outside. The ship rocked and creaked and protested as the gales grew worse. Ryo blew a slow exhale from his lips, pretending he could blow away with the wind and sail through air currents instead of the sea until he found his love.

Bakura shook him and Ryo jerked his head up from the furs. "Kek?"

"Wake up."

Ryo jerked his head to look at Bakura and then his head swung to the clock on the wall. "I dozed for a few minutes, didn't I?"

"Ryo." Bakura frowned. "It's been a day."

Ryo scrambled to a sitting position. "Beg your pardon?"

"The crew insisted you slept, because the winds calmed down while you were unconscious, but I knew you'd be pissed if I let you sleep for more than a day because of their superstitions."

Ryo looked around, disoriented. "A full day?"

"Of course. Moron, you've barely slept in weeks. It finally caught up to you."

"Kek was with me."

"In your dreams?"

"Yes. Only, I've never tasted a kiss in a dream before."

"Come on." Bakura tugged at Ryo's arm. "Breakfast is only boiled and mashed roots and lychee fruit, but you should get something into your stomach."

* * *

The days ran together. Kek counted them by the twelve hour feedings of dark bread. He sat on a pallet in a holding cell on the Hunters' ship. They kept a lantern burning in his room but without natural light, Kek's sense of time distorted. He pried a nail from the floorboards and used it to hash marks on the wall, each mark representing a loaf of bread. They'd removed the manacles, his wrists chafed but they smelt of iron and not infection so he knew they'd heal. Kek scratched absentmindedly at them as he stared at the burning wick in the lantern.

He closed his eyes as he settled down into his pallet, trying to remember the white glow of Ryo's skin, or the taste of his throat. When Kek thought of Ryo he thought of their last shore leave, coarse, wool blankets under their bodies and the smell of lavender lifting from Ryo's skin. He missed blankets, and streaky rashers, and hot baths, but above all comforts, he missed Ryo. Even the simple moments where they lay next to each other and talked about mundane things, how many pounds of beans were left or who got pushed overboard for a "bath" that day. He missed his friend as much as he missed his lover.

A hard, low sigh stumbled out of Kek's mouth. He traced his fingers over the scar on his palm and the braid of hair still tied around his arm and hand. He pressed the white rope to his lips. In an odd fit of cabin fever, Kek touched his tongue to the braid, wanting all his senses engaged in the act of remembrance. It was a dry, harsh feeling on his tongue. Almost bitter at the tip but really tasting of nothing. Kek didn't care, he tasted it again and then clutched the rope of hair to his chest as if the piece could summon the whole.

"Ryo," he moaned the name to hear a voice. He tried to sleep so he could see Ryo in a dream, but the pallet was hard and the air muggy and tainted with mildew and it made it hard to sleep. Kek didn't know if the next feeding was for noon or midnight. When Kek dozed, the humid air felt like bath steam, and he could almost smell the lavender lifting from Ryo's skin.

* * *

When they reached port those who wanted to _retire_ from their lives of piracy, gathered their treasures and left. The others dispersed for their usual port leave rituals. Before Todd left for the brothels, Ryo reminded him that if he touched Draught that he'd receive the lash. Geoffrey went to arrange a care taker for _La Muerta_ while they continued their journey by carriage. Like always, Ryo went to the bath house. He felt guilty, enjoying the hot water while knowing Kek suffered, but he needed a bath and there was nothing to do but enjoy it. Ryo thought of Kek's strange claim to see Ryo in dreams. He tried to believe it, brushing pale fingers over his pale chest and nipples in the hopes that perhaps Kek would see the act in sleep, but Ryo couldn't suspend his disbelief. He punched the water with an angry fist and stared at the ceiling as he soaked in the lavender scented water until it was time to dry himself.

After his bath, Ryo went to the nearest Inn, picking at some streaky rashers and barley porridge. Bakura sat beside him. "Starving yourself won't make him feel full."

"I know."

"Then eat it."

"I will."

"And get some sleep."

"I will."

"Ryo," Bakura hissed.

His green glazzies lifted up to stare at his brother. "I said I will."

Bakura sipped on a stein of auburn stout, licking foam off his top lip. The sombre expression on his face ruined the comic effect. "You're handling it better than I would, if it were Marik."

"I'm numb, that's why. I can't feel anything. It's like the Hunters pulled my heart out of my rib cage and walked away with it, leaving me a walking corpse."

"From what I've heard, that description is a good one for the sods that took him. Makes me glad to have the twenty-seven instead of Marik's one."

"They hid their faces behind hoods, but staring at them gave me a feeling . . . it's like the coldest night you can remember, and I still can't believe I let such creatures take Kek right out of my arms."

"So it's like that? You're going to sit here and boo-hoo-hoo into your porridge?"

A spark animated behind Ryo's glass-green glazzies. "Who's weeping? We're going East to see what's to be done."

"You won't make it East if you don't sleep, Ryo."

Ryo spooned a sulky mouthful of barely into his mouth. "I try. It's hard without him."

"Do you want Marik to make a trip to the apothecary?"

"No, no drugs."

Bakura shook his head. "Medicine, not everything is Draught, Ryo."

"No. I'll take some chamomile tea up to my room, put me right to sleep." Ryo finished eating his breakfast, feeling like a child as his brother watched him to make sure he ate everything. He didn't argue anymore, instead he sighed and ate in silence, ordering tea when the serving devotchka checked on them.

When he finished, he lay down his spoon. "See? I'm not starving myself."

"I'm more worried about you sleeping. The shadows under your eyes look like ink smeared on on paper."

Ryo lifted up his mug of tea. "I'll go and rest right now. It'll be easier, now that we're not on the ship."

Bakura tried to smile. "Even easier when we're back in a wagon right? All the rocking, and creaking, and the chill always on you. That'll help you sleep for sure."

Ryo smiled, a real although tired expression. "You know, I think it might help just because of the old familiarity of it."

Bakura ruffled his hand in Ryo's short mess of hair. "Then there's that."

Ryo trudged upstairs to the rooms, sipping his tea as he went. He lay on his bed; he'd splurged the extra copper piece for a room with finer blankets and a large hearth. He lay with his head at the foot of the bed and his feet next to the headboard so he could stare at the flames. "It'd be nicer if you were here. You'd already be putting me to sleep." Ryo sighed, closing his eyes but still talking to the flames as if they were Kek. "Is it my fault I can't sleep? It was your chest and arm that always fit my head so perfect, like a pillow sewn for me alone. How could these feather and cotton pillows ever compare to a beating heart?"

Ryo felt his breathing slow. His lips no longer moved but he continued the soliloquy in his mind. _See how this is your fault, lovey? If you weren't such a perfect fit for me, it'd be much easier to sleep properly._

Ryo jerked his shoulders when he heard Kek's unexpected reply. _Idiot, it's your fault. I can't visit you if you don't dream._

* * *

 ** _***I shouldn't have read this chapter. I'll be going to Arizona in a few weeks to see family and see my best friend since jr. high get married, and this chapter is reminding me how I'm not going to sleep for the entire week I'm gone because my husband isn't coming with me :'( ***_**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Ryo spun and reached out his hand. _Am I dreaming?_

 _Yes, or I couldn't be here._

 _But . . ._ Ryo swallowed, his breathing labored loud and raspy in his chest. _You look so real._ Ryo leaned into Kek's chest and breathed in his scent and ran his fingers over the textured flesh of his lower back. _You smell real. You feel real. How can this be a dream?_

 _Ryo._ Kek cupped Ryo's chin and lifted up his face. _Just because you're dreaming doesn't mean this isn't real. I can watch you when I'm dreaming, but if we dream at the same time I can visit you._

 _Why didn't you ever do it before?_

 _Why would I? We were together then._

 _So . . . it's really you?_ Ryo's lips trembled. The thought of being in Kek's arms terrified him because it was more likely that he was barmy. They stood between the bed and hearth of Ryo's inn room. He felt the heat from the fire on his left and felt Kek's heartbeat through the fabric of his dingy shirt.

Kek leaned forward and kissed Ryo. _Can you taste a kiss in a regular dream?_

 _I did last time I dreamt of you._

 _Ryo, don't you remember? Last time I saw you we spent the entire day laying in bed in La Muerta's cabin._

Ryo thought about it for a minute. _You had a fever._

 _Yes, I did, so you said you were going to lay in bed until it broke. Then your brother woke you._

Ryo blinked his eyes, still afraid but unable to fight the hope screaming in his mind. _So that wasn't just a dream? That was real, too?_

Kek smiled. _Of course._

Ryo patted his palms on Kek's forehead and cheeks. _And your fever's gone?_

 _A few weeks ago. You never sleep long enough to dream. I've been so lonely without you._

 _I'm sorry._ Ryo buried his lips against Kek's neck. _I'll try to sleep more. It'll be hard to stay awake after this. I'll stay asleep with you and we can just stay together._

 _Are you going to be acting again?_

 _A little, enough to make a convincing disguise as we smuggle Marik back into the capital._

Kek chuckled. _Still trying to rescue me?_

 _Give me credit, lovey. It's much too soon to quit you._

Kek kissed Ryo's forehead. _We have until dawn. What should we do? Have a game of rummy?_

 _We can play,_ Ryo agreed, _but, could we just lay down for a moment? It's been . . . it's been . . ._ his breathing grew rough again. Ryo fell to his knees. _And I didn't think I'd ever see you again. I want to rescue you like a hero, but I can't do anything right. I couldn't even be your first time without everything going to the nine hells. How am I supposed to rescue you when I didn't even protect you from the Hunters?_

Kek knelt down beside Ryo. He lifted Ryo up and guided him to the bed, slipping both of them under the covers and holding him. _If you do nothing I'm dead. If you try and fail I'll also die, but maybe . . ._ he let the sentence die between them, leaving it to Ryo to rescue it.

 _If I try . . ._ Ryo's confidence faulted as he spoke

Kek sighed. _It's such a small, frail chance, and we're so unlucky._

 _But maybe I can save you. I know I have nothing to lose, since I'm to lose you regardless, but it's still hard to imagine success._

 _Perhaps you shouldn't think of succeeding, instead think of my eyes opening._

Ryo could see that. The concept of saving Kek was abstract and hard to imagine, but the thought of Kek opening his eyes from sleep was concrete, something Ryo saw every morning. Sandy eyelashes fluttering as his lids wavered up and down over his violet glazzies, Ryo knew each crease in Kek's face when he woke slow and stubborn from a deep sleep. _Yes, I'll think of that until I see it_ _happen._

* * *

Bakura walked back to his room. Marik waited for him on the bed. He wore a lavender silk robe, a relic from his homeland. The garment had more patches than actual silk after eight years of travel and use, but Bakura still loved the way it clung and accentuated the curves of Marik's lithe form.

"You look good in that." Bakura shifted his eyes away as he said the complement.

"That's why I wear it." Marik smirked, patting the mattress next to him.

Bakura sat on the spot Marik patted. Marik tucked loose, silver hair behind Bakura's ears and asked, "how's he doing?"

Bakura exhaled and rolled his silver glazzies. "He'll be fine. He's doing better than I'd have guessed."

"Bet you still lectured him."

"Of course I did. The little sod deserves it, all this trouble we're going through. By all twenty-seven gods, you Eastern men are too much trouble to bother with."

"You Western men make it too easy for us to get away with it."

Bakura grabbed Marik and kissed him hard.

Marik pulled away, holding Bakura's face with both hands. "Hey, are you okay?"

He stared at the mattress to avoid Marik's stare. "Of course, I'm fine."

Marik chuckled, tickling Bakura's ribs. "You're just like a mother hen, you know that?"

Bakura grabbed Marik's wrists. "None of that, lovey."

Marik struggled against Bakura's hold but couldn't break free. "You're being an awful subject again."

"Then make me obey, my prince."

Marik threw himself down on the bed, dragging Bakura with him. He wrapped his legs around Bakura's waist. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Anxious, I guess. It's been over eight years since either of us have been to the Eastern Capital."

"It's not the same with me, you know." Marik squeezed his legs tighter around Bakura's waist. "The priests could care less about a lost prince. If someone recognized me they may try to kill me – to prevent me from trying to reclaim the throne – but more likely they'd just want a bribe to keep quiet."

"Yes, and I'm sure they'd take the bribe and then sell the information regardless to the anyone interested."

"That's exactly what they'd do, but what of it? We can handle a few assassins, right? My sister wouldn't have told us to go if I was in danger."

Bakura grinned. "Killing assassins would be kinda fun."

"Then stop worrying. This is just another story for us to tell one day."

Bakura teased the earring hanging from Marik's left ear. "To whom? All those nieces and nephews you have now?"

Marik's face lit up at the thought and it made Bakura's grin wide and carefree. Marik looked at the ceiling, thinking. "Most of our stories are too inappropriate for children, but corrupting them a little bit would probably be healthy for them. You know how sheltered spoiled, royal brats are."

"Yes, I'm quite aware." Bakura leaned down to kiss him again, this time softer.

Marik kissed him back, his legs still entwined around Bakura's midsection. He grabbed Bakura's shoulders and Bakura cradled Marik's head with both his hands. Marik undressed Bakura, slow to unbutton his waistcoat and the shirt beneath. Bakura released Marik's head and traced the contours of his body through the silken robe. Marik moaned as Bakura's hands slipped under the silk to caress his chest.

After stripping Bakura of his trousers, Marik flipped them so that he lay on top of Bakura. He untied Marik's robe but allowed the fabric to drape over their bare skin. Marik reached towards the nightstand where a bottle of olive oil sat, but he couldn't reach it. He growled in frustration and broke their kisses to snatch the bottle from the dresser. When Marik entered him Bakura gasped and squeezed his glazzies shut. He kept them closed, enjoying the feel of silk and salty skin slick with grassy-scented olive oil. The scent of sandalwood and clove oil drifted to Bakura from the nape of Marik's neck. Bakura drank the sweat from Marik's throat as he kissed the ginger colored skin.

They finished panting, arms a knot tying them together. Bakura combed Marik's gold hair with his fingers. "My prince," he whispered.

Marik purred, squeezing Bakura tighter. "My troublesome thief."

* * *

Ryo wouldn't let go. He lay with his cheek resting against Kek's chest, covers tucked up to Ryo's chin. His fingers gave lazy flicks to Kek's nipple, his eyes more closed than open. Kek teased the longer fringe hair scattered around Ryo's forehead. "No card games after all?"

"I just want to rest," Ryo muttered in a drowsy voice. "They stole this from us, but we took it back, didn't we?"

Kek grinned. "Yeah, not even God could stop us."

"Are you . . . suffering?" Ryo pressed his scarred hand against Kek's heart.

"They have me locked up on a ship. It's not pleasant, but it's not horrible either."

"You'd say that even if they tortured you. You don't want me to worry."

"You'd know if I lied."

"Can we stay like this until dawn?"

"Yes."

"Good." Ryo permitted himself a smile. "I need to hold you a little longer."

"Will you sing to me?"

Ryo grunted consent. His eyes close and he sang of mountains and of shields and of magic cloaks that turned heroes invisible. He sang until he fell asleep in Kek's arms, and in in the morning when he woke, he forgot that their time was anything other than a dream.

Ryo purred and stretched, feeling calmer than he had in weeks. He poured water into a basin and bathed with a cloth from the bowl. Ryo opened the shutters and stared outside. The morning air felt cool, but the sunlight on his skin reminded Ryo that the East was a hot, harsh country. He heard the door click open behind him.

He turned and saw Marik and Bakura walk in, both wearing newly tailored shirts, waistcoats, and trousers. Ryo glanced down and noticed new boots on their feet as well. "I see you've been to the shops."

"Awake, are you?" Marik asked.

"You could have knocked."

"You could not sleep twenty-four hours at a time."

Ryo thought about the statement. "I dreamt of him again. I don't want to wake up when I dream."

Marik pursed his lips, hand resting snug against the jut of his hipbone. "You'll slow yourself down that way, refusing to sleep and refusing to wake up."

Ryo turned back to the window. People scuttled below like crabs on the beach and he understood their motivations as much as if they were crabs. They lived and ate and reproduced, but there didn't seem any point to it short of surviving.

"You look better," Bakura said.

"I dreamt of Kek," Ryo repeated. A stray laugh tumbled out of Ryo's mouth. "He said he misses my cooking. They're only feeding him dense, black bread."

Through his peripheral vision, Ryo noticed the way Marik's eyes flicked to Bakura before swinging back to Ryo. Ryo asked, "what is it, Marik?"

Marik shook his head, not understanding the question.

"You shot Bakura a look."

"It's nothing," Marik said.

"It's something if you did it."

"It's just, you just made me remember something from my childhood – nothing important."

"The bread?" Ryo asked, suspecting.

Marik hesitated before answering. "Yes, the black temple bread my sister would eat during fasts."

"Every twelve hours," Ryo whispered.

Again, Marik hesitated. "Yes."

Ryo nodded. "I won't sleep in anymore. We don't have enough time. What's there to do today?"

"We have four wagons." Bakura shrugged. "There's still a lot of props to gather. We should pick a schedule, plays that have roles the others can fit into without much actual acting."

Ryo felt himself smiling. "I know some good ones. I'm not looking forward to dresses again."

Bakura smirked. "The things we do for love."

"Then I guess I'm off to the tailor's to be fitted in lace and ribbons."

* * *

They traveled further east in four, ox pulled wagons. Marik still acted as their navigator, plotting routes based on the streams that would keep the oxen alive in the heat. Ryo never favored the East, was thrilled eight years ago when Marik said he never wanted to return to it. He hated the heat, hated the sand that seemed to clung to his skin no matter how many layers he wore to shield himself from it. More than anything, he hated how people stared at him. People of the East owned onyx black hair, spice-colored skin, and glazzies ranging from brown to hazel or olive. The occasional children born with gold hair and lilac eyes – such as Marik or Kek – were rumored to descend from great kings or nobles or warriors; however, Ryo's white skin made old baboochkas shriek at the sight of him. Some thought he was an angel, others a demon – bolshy yarbles to it all, Ryo just wanted to get to the capital.

Ryo stared at his reflection in the mirror. His skin looked corpse white and his green glazzies look fevered. He reached out and ran a fingertip over the mirror, tracing his red-stained lips and remembering his first night with Kek. He looked different this time; he wore a blue silk shift embroidered with gold lilies and his black wig gleamed. The myth Ryo chose was from the mountain people that lived far beyond the East. He picked that particular story because it'd be familiar to their audience, have roles the crew could perform without actual acting, and the female character rescued herself. Ryo was done with damsel roles. He wanted a sword and he wanted to participate in his own story instead of sitting through it. Ryo loved performing, but being back on the stage the last few weeks made Ryo realize he didn't miss what they were doing. He didn't like dresses and he didn't like badly written love stories. He wanted to sing courageous adventures, and he wanted Kek to be in the audience.

"Albatross." Johnny, another crew member that followed them, stood at the door. "They say your scene."

"Not Albatross, Li Chi." Bakura stood behind him and corrected. "Get it wrong on stage and I'll box your ears."

"Li Chi," Johnny said, dashing away to avoid Bakura.

Ryo sighed, looking at his brother. "Bakura, he doesn't have any lines. He's your tail."

Bakura wore crimson and held a large dragon mask in his hands. "I know, but Johnny's too meek so we, all of us, always harass him. We've sworn to put a spine in the boy by the end of the journey. Marik and I have even bet on it."

"What haven't you and Marik bet on?"

"You make a good Li Chi. I always imagined her bone white."

"A peasant devotchka, I'm sure she was tawny and probably had dark glazzies, but I'll do." Ryo eyed Bakura's costume, how the red silk dripped off his body like blood. "That color has always suited you."

"You better go, or Marik will box _our_ ears."

Ryo patted Bakura's shoulders. "See you on stage when I get to cut you down with my sword."

"It's not a fair fight, you know. She tricks that poor dragon by feeding him sticky rice."

"And I suppose standing there and getting eaten would have been fair?"

"Well, It'd make a better story if you were telling it to other dragons."

Ryo smiled as he left the dressing area and walked onto the stage. The the youngest five acted as Li Chi's sisters, her incredibly ugly sisters, even with their whiskers shaved from their faces. They pretended to work fields of rice as Li Chi volunteered to be a sacrifice to the mountain serpent. Later, armed with sweet, sticky rice balls and a sword, Ryo fought Bakura. His brother made a glorious villain, throwing himself wholly into the roll. When Bakura roared, the children in the audience shrieked and when he saw Li Chi, "the dragon" gave a loud, delightful rumble of laughter that could convince anyone that he was ready to swallow another victim whole.

Bakura pretend to notice the rice balls and devoured them – by hiding them in his costume. Ryo killed him and a girl in the front row, perhaps eight or nine, screamed at Ryo. "You leave him alone!"

The audience laughed, Ryo and the six pirates hiding under read silk to represent the serpent's long body, also laughed. Bakura didn't laugh, being dead, but Ryo would have bet a thick stack of cutter than he grinned behind the crimson dragon mask.

The play ended with Ryo marrying the king, Sidd this evening. Before, when they were a troupe of three, Marik would have played the role of king, but they thought it prudent to keep Marik away from any role involving royalty while they traveled through the East. After the cheers and bows they went to a coffee den. "And that's another thing I hate about the East," Ryo grumbled to Geoffrey as they walked from the outside stage to the coffee den. "No proper taverns or pubs in this land. What's the point of pretending liquor's so bad when every coffee den and tea house in this country spikes the drinks?"

Geoffrey flashed Ryo a half-toothed grin, the stubble growing from his chin gray as morning fog. "Does the coffee weaken the flavor of the Albatross' whiskey?"

"If they'd serve me by the pot instead of the cup I wouldn't mind it so."

"I hate the East as much as you," Marik confessed, "but I will defend the coffee. Never could find a proper, dark roasted brew in the West."

"But we have proper ale, stout, whiskey, rum, port, and scotch so who cares if the coffee's a little mild?" They reached the coffee den, a place with low tables with cushions and rugs instead of chairs. They ordered a stew made from lamb and chickpeas and peanuts and Ryo paid the extra polly to have his own pot of almost clear coffee.

They talked just as if it were another mess on the ship. They reminisced about the night the crew robbed the pub so they had polly for the brothels which lead to Ryo's capture and subsequent recruitment on the ship. Marik and Bakura took turns matching which pirate robbed which merchant that evening. After their meal and drinks, they went back to their wagons and began their journey to the next large city.

Ryo changed into his regular clothes. He removed the wig, scratching his fingers through his short hair; Ryo never realized how heavy his hair had been until he'd cut it off. Bakura and Marik sat out of the wagon, driving the oxen forward. Ryo crawled into his hammock. He didn't think he'd sleep after a show and a pot of coffee, though there wasn't much _coffee_ in the pot, but as soon as Ryo's eyes closed, he felt his mind float away from consciousness.

 _He dreamt of Kek._

* * *

 ** _*** Chi Li Slays the Serpent is a real myth you can look up. I liked it when I was younger because the girl saves herself by being both clever and fierce.***_**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

 _We go through this every time, Ryo._

 _We do?_

 _Yes, we do. Yes, you're dreaming. Yes, this is really happening despite the fact that you're dreaming._

 _Then why do I always go back to thinking these are just dreams when I wake up?_

 _Because you're afraid to admit they're real._

Ryo didn't answer; he thought about it and realized that Kek was correct. _I'm sorry._

 _I wouldn't mind, but we don't see each other often and I always spend half the night convincing you I'm real and assuring you that I'm okay. I'd rather be doing other things._

Ryo smile. _Other things? Such as?_

Kek grabbed Ryo and kissed him, holding the back of Ryo's head since his hair wasn't long enough to properly grab. Kek pulled away and Ryo sighed. They clung to each other in a hard hug, breathing in the scent of each other.

They sat down on a simple palette of gray wool. _So this is where they're keeping you?_

Kek nodded his head. _Yes. They change my chamber pot and give me bread and water every twelve hours._

 _Fasting bread, right? I remember you telling me._

Kek gestured around them. _See? It's not an inn, but it's not a torture chamber. I thought it might comfort you to see it._

 _It does._ Ryo squeezed Kek's hand. _Thank you._

 _So what play did you do this time?_

 _Li Chi Slays the Serpent,_ Ryo said, _I realized something today._

 _What's that?_

 _I'm done acting._

Kek shook his head, frowning. _But you love it. We'd lay in bed for hours while you told me of some of the adventures you had during your acting days._

Ryo gestured with his hand. _I love performing; I love making the audience forget everything for an hour and get lost in a story with me, but I've been ruined for stage life._ _I mean, we don't have to pull tricks anymore since we have plenty of pretty polly, but that part never really bothered me. It's just, I'm fed up with being the princess. I never liked it, but now I can't tolerate it. As soon as we speak to Marik's sister – I'm done with the stage._

 _What would you do instead?_

Ryo glanced to the side. _Galley master is a decent gig._

Kek snorted. _What would you want to do instead?_

Ryo smiled, bashful. _It's stupid._

Kek touched Ryo's face. _Tell me anyway._

 _I wouldn't mind being a bard. Not a proper one in some noble's house prattling on about the ancestors of his useless and rich lineage. I'd rather be a ronin bard without a master, traveling wherever suits me and singing adventures as I go along._

 _Then that's what you need to do. When I dream of you I'll always be entertained._

Ryo pursed his lips and gave Kek a sharp look. _What I_ need _to do is find you._

Kek stared at the gray wool below them. _Ryo, I've had one-hundred and one visions of what might happen, and in all of them . . . I still die._

 _Then I'll try one-hundred and two times, Kek._

Kek tried to smile and change the subject. _What will be your first song?_

Ryo leaned forward and kissed Kek again, barely touching his lips. _When you wake up I'll sing it for you._

* * *

They had to push their way through the Capital streets. Once they found an inn with vacancy, which took them the entire morning, they parked their wagons. Ryo, Marik, and Bakura left _La Muerta's_ crew to seek their own pleasures and continued towards the royal temple in the center of the city. Pilgrims and tourists visited the enormous bronze and marble temple every year, so they didn't stand out. Marik licked his lips and wiped his palms against his waistcoat. Bakura's hand lighted on Marik's shoulder and he glanced in Bakura's direction. Bakura didn't speak, only flicking half a smile in Marik's direction, and Marik realized – as he realized every day – that he loved Bakura. The closer they drew to the temple the more Marik's stomach quivered as if filled with dragonflies.

Marik glanced to his right where Ryo walked beside him. "Relax, Ryo, you look more anxious than I feel."

Ryo smiled, face hidden inside the cream-colored, hooded robe he used to hide his appearance from the crowds. "I suppose I am."

Marik gestured for both Bakura and Ryo to follow him off the main road. "This way. I know of a side entrance that won't have the crowds."

Bakura raised a silver eyebrow. "And they'll let us simply walk through this alternate door?"

Marik smirked. "We may need to scale a wall and avoid a guard or two, but that's nothing _you_ couldn't handle, my thief."

They stole into a narrow back alley away from the temple. The guards kept their watch towards the crowded streets so it was too easy for them to climb the stone wall leading to a small garden grown behind the temple. As soon as Marik's feet touched the grass on the other side, he felt long, slender arms crush his torso in a hug. "Little brother, I've waited years to give you this hug."

"Isis, let go." Marik squirmed on reflex, not liking to be treated like a child in front of Bakura. She released him and stepped back, bowing with her normal respectful demeanor. Marik looked at her, the same other than perhaps a faint etchings of crow's feet near her dark eyes. No traces of silver lined her hair yet and that was good; Marik wasn't sure how he'd handle seeing her hair go gray. He felt his face stretching wide in a smile and he couldn't help grabbing his sister in another hug. "Okay, I have missed you."

They held each other for a long time, as if trying to condense almost a decade of lost time into a single embrace. Marik couldn't hold back the memories of he, Isis, and Rishid playing together in the palace gardens as children before social standing and adult expectations forced them to act civil and reserved around each other. Marik sniffed and swiped a fist over his face, the dampness on his skin surprised him a little, but at least when they pulled away again, Isis had to dry her cheeks as well.

She smiled and turned towards Bakura, as ruthless with him in her endearment as she'd been with Marik. Bakura squeaked as he found himself the victim of Marik's sister's embrace.

"Ah, finally we meet, pale-eyed thief that stole my brother from me."

Bakura recovered faster, however, smirking as shrugging in Isis' arms. "Thanks for the daggers and bangle. I had to steal the brother – bothersome trinket that he is – because he matched the set so completely."

Isis laughed but Marik crossed his arms over his chest. "Trinket?"

Bakura looked up and winked at him, and it was too hard to feign anger while watching two of the most important people in Marik's life meeting for the first time so he sighed and let the offense slip away. When Isis pulled back from Bakura, she took Marik's hand. "Brother, why don't you and your thief go into the gardens and find Rishid. You can meet your nieces and nephews that way."

Marik glanced at Ryo and then back to his sister. He nodded and dragged Bakura into the shrubs and trees to give Isis and Ryo some privacy.

* * *

Ryo watched Marik's sister; she was dark and beautiful and stood with a natural ease and grace that outmatched the most high-born devotchkas that Ryo'd ever met before. Although she was darker, he saw Marik in her face, mostly her high cheekbones and narrow chin. There was something else familiar about her. She had a look in her glazzies that reminded Ryo of Kek, a sure-natured knowing that told Ryo he'd save time if he didn't argue with her.

She gave Ryo a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek before stepping back and holding both his hands. Ryo looked at her a moment longer before speaking. "They say men can't be oracles."

"It's true that a male oracle has never served in the temple."

"But you have twins, no?"

"Yes, I do."

"Will only your daughter replace you?"

"Yes."

"But which one has a better intuition?"

Isis smiled. "As is often the case with twins, they are the same in many ways."

"Why don't you tell everyone that both children inherited your abilities?"

"That would only bring my son harm. If I allow my daughter to succeed me, she'll be able to choose her own personal guard and she'll choose her brother just as I chose Rishid. That way they can still work together – they'll always be strongest together."

Ryo nodded.

"But you weren't asking about my son."

"No. I've been dreaming of Kek, only, I don't think I'm dreaming – well, I suppose I am dreaming, but they're not normal dreams."

Isis let go of Ryo's hands and held his face. "Ryo, you already know that answer to that. You already know those dreams are special; you already know Kek has stronger intuition than regular people. I knew it when I saw him as a girl. That's why I helped him all those years ago, but if you already know as well, why do you need to hear me say it?"

Ryo's eyes burned; he wasn't sure why he wanted to cry. "It's just hard to believe."

"I've seen one-hundred and one visions of your journey. I've never had so many visions on one set of events before. In every single one Kek dies."

It was too much and the burning in Ryo's eyes spilled down his cheeks in the form of tears. "He said the same thing."

Isis sighed. "Then why do you think I brought you here, Ryo?"

He rubbed his robe's sleeve across his glazzies, in control of his emotions once again. "Because I do something different in each vision."

Isis tilted her head to the left. "Is that what Kek told you?"

"No, he doesn't like to talk about me finding him. I think he's accepted his fate, to sleep and dream of me until his heart stops."

"Then why did you say it?"

"Because Kek says I'm real and he's an oracle like you so if he says it – it's true. And if I'm real I don't have to follow the rules of the story, and I've thought of so many ways I could end this fable. I could jump into the sea, I could throw myself into the life of the stage, I could punish myself for failing him by marrying the daughter of a pig farmer and living as mundane as possible, but in all of those scenarios he'd still die. The one thing I can't seem to do is figure out how I could save him after he takes the Trial. There's no antidote for that poison. If magic or visions could fix the problem then you or he would have told me already."

Isis nodded. "It's true."

"But lately I've been thinking of one single image. His eyes opening. Instead of focusing on rescuing him, I'm just willing that one image to become as real as I am."

"With any cluster of visions events branch out. Different people make different choices, but when there are multiple visions for a certain situation, overlap is inevitable. The fact that I've seen so many visions of you, and that you do something different _in every one of them,_ makes me think there's hope. Ryo, if you love him, then find him." Isis handed Ryo a rolled piece of parchment. "This map will help you. Take the road to the North. It's not the quickest path, in fact of all my visions I'm sending you on arguably the most difficult one."

"The North." Ryo looked up and stared at Isis' dark, knowing glazzies. "I'll feel at home, up North, won't I?"

"That land will suit you, very well I think. I don't know if you'll manage to see his eyes open again, but in the North you'll find yourself and I think that's the key to rescuing your love."

Ryo smiled and hugged Marik's sister. "I am too thankful for words."

"I wish I could do more."

Ryo knelt on the grass, thinking off all the water the Easterners wasted to keep grass grown in the temple and palace gardens. Ryo lowered his hood so that his full face shown in the light. He took Isis' hand and kissed it. "You've given me a direction; I think that's what I needed most. The rest is up to me."

"Please take care of our brothers, Ryo."

Ryo gave her a soft chuckle. "They're more capable than I am."

"Hmmm, I wonder about that. When I meditate to try to see how he's doing, I often see them in bar fights and I get the solid feeling that it's some of the lesser trouble they get into."

Ryo could only grin without speaking, words would only incriminate Marik further. "I hope it doesn't take another decade before you can visit with Marik again."

Isis smiled. "Don't worry, in two years time my oldest nephew will have the throne and that will begin a slow, but progressive shift in our culture. It won't be too long before we reunite for a longer period of time, though I wish this visit wasn't so brief."

Ryo, still holding Isis' hand, looked down. "I'm sorry I took your time with him."

"You're the only reason this visit was possible."

"Then I promise I will bring him back again one day."

"Come. For now let us find them and have tea together before you go North."

* * *

Bakura was trying to deal with the fact that there were very small people sitting in his lap and talking to him, but they weren't making much sense as they rambled a fairy story to him so he smiled and nodded and hoped they wouldn't notice that he humored them without actually paying much attention to them. No luck, Marik's niece, Godsi, who had her mother's dark hair but Marik's bergamot glazzies tugged at Bakura's sleeve to get his full attention.

"Uncle, you must listen," she insisted, and Bakura wasn't sure about the whole _uncle_ thing. It made him feel like he had to act responsible and that was never something Bakura liked doing.

"I am listening."

"What did I tell you about the sword, then?"

Bakura strained to remember. Her voice was soft and light like a little bird that was easy to tune out as a pleasant background noise. "That, uh, it was magical?"

"And?" Qadir, who was Godsi's twin only with Marik's golden hair and his mother's sable glazzies, spoke for the first time.

"And I shouldn't steal it," Bakura guessed. When people gave him the look the two children had, they were often chiding him for stealing or drinking so he figured the odds were in his favor for the correct answer to be stealing in this case.

" _Touch_ it. You mustn't touch it. It'll freeze your hand straight through your gloves, so bad that you would lose three fingers."

And he needed his fingers for his dagger, and his ale stein, and for stealing, and to hold Marik – yes, his hands were a bit important, not that he expected to see any magical swords in the near future so he wasn't worried. "Okay. I promise I won't touch it."

He thought that might satisfy her, but still she prattled on; she told him about wolves, and a revolt led by a girl with hair that looked like a nest of knotted garnet, and about a beggar who was _Stafkarl_ , one of the twenty-seven gods.

"The dead trees will bloom for the first time in nine-hundred years." Godsi continued. "And the year we get our birth-certificates everyone will visit again and we'll play poker. Mother won't like us playing, but Uncle Marik convinces her it's all right."

"Poker? How'd you hear of that game?" Bakura had to teach Marik how to play years ago. He missed those early days when he could actually win their bets.

"Our friend taught us."

"You shouldn't talk to people who play poker."

"But Uncle Bakura, you play poker."

"Exactly my point." Bakura looked across at Marik who spoke with his brother, Rishid. He had a child in his lap as well, but the little sod only curled in a ball and sucked his thumb, half asleep as the older two ran back and forth, playing with wooden scimitars. Bakura really wished he'd gotten that one. Marik glanced at Bakura and gave him a wide, foolish grin and Bakura knew he was going to be teased that evening.

"Never mind. You're not even listening."

"Yes I am. It was a very nice story."

Godsi and Qadir exchanged glances as if they were tutors with an impossibly dense student. At that moment, Ryo and Isis walked up to them and Bakura couldn't resist the urge to give Marik's sister a _help me_ glance. She smiled with a soft, warm expression that made her look unrelated to Marik. "Godsi, help me pour tea."

The girl kissed Bakura's cheek and he almost jumped, not used to such open displays of endearment. She slid off Bakura's lap and walked to Isis. As they prepared tea, Qadir kissed Bakura's other cheek and then went and sat next to Ryo. Ryo smiled and ruffled the boy's blonde hair. The boy smiled back. "They won't listen, but you will – the cold won't burn you, but give Uncle Marik the fur of the dire alpha – it's the only way he'll be warm."

Ryo nodded, Bakura rolled his eyes about how serious Ryo looked as he considered the child's words. "I will. Is there anything else I should know for the trip?"

"Only let them drink one horn of the red mead because more than that will make them sick." Qadir pressed his lips together in thought. "Send the crew back to the ship because the docks will burn in six months and the only way to save your ship is to have them near by. They'll know the night because it's the same one that a large white bird with black wings will roost on the ship. You won't see them again for one year and three days."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

They spent the day allowing Marik to catch up with his family. Isis was apparently "meditating" for a ceremony and wasn't to be disturbed until dawn the next day. When the sky burned orange and gilded the garden the color of fresh-cast gold, they exchanged a final round of hugs – Marik amused to see Bakura and Ryo swept unwillingly up in the storm – and then they jumped back over the wall that separated the temple gardens from the busy, city streets.

Marik frowned and stared at the road, a pang already nestling in his chest like a thorn as he left his siblings once again. He felt Bakura's scratchy, calloused fingers slide into his own and squeeze his hand. Marik glance up to try to catch a look at Bakura's face, but his stubborn thief was pointedly turned away so that Marik couldn't see any tender expression that might betray itself of his continence. Nevertheless, Bakura's hand remained warm and rough and tight around Marik's hand and Marik knew that was as close as Bakura often got to expressing his real emotions. _Dayenu_ , Marik thought and smiled as they walked back to their inn.

In the common area they ate tomatoes stuffed with goat cheese, olives, roasted peppers, and a curry made from goat's meat. Marik ate his supper with large, flat wedges of bread. They drank strong coffee. Marik drank his black, he didn't want the rich, dark taste diluted with spirits.

"So what's next?" Sidd asked.

Ryou looked at him, then shifted his eyes to the remainder of _La Muerta's_ crew. "I go North. I need the rest of to go back to the ship."

"We follow you, Albatross." Todd curled his hand into a fist.

Ryo smiled at him. "You know, I half-expected to have to lash you when we went back to the cities."

Todd stared at the lamp burning on their table. "Wouldn't care to get forty."

"You could have taken your full share of the treasure and left for the opium dens and gambling houses like the others, but you stayed. I'm glad, but now I need you to look after _La Muerta._ She's in our charge until I fetch the Captain. In about six months time the docks will burn. I need all of you to be there. She's a saggy, starry baboochka who leaks and smells like chum, but she's like our surrogate mum and we have to keep her safe from the flames."

"How will we know when to watch for the blaze?" Geoffrey asked.

Ryo smirked, Marik realized it made him favor his brother. "I'll send you a sign – an albatross will roost on the ship the night of the fire."

This made the crew speechless. When they did speak, it was in quick whispers to each other.

Geoffrey nodded. "We won't let anything happen to our ol' marm. You can trust her with us, Albatross."

Ryo nodded. "I do." He looked at each of the men sitting around the table. We'll meet you back at the ship in one year and three days. Until then, try not to spend all your treasures at the brothels." Ryo stood up to retreat to his room.

Marik and Bakura followed him. "Hey, Ryo," Marik called before he closed his bedroom door.

He looked at Marik. "Yes?"

"Not that I mind you getting rid of the crew, they're amiable but would slow us down, but why on earth did you send them back to the ship?"

Ryo blinked at Marik. "Didn't you hear Qadir? The docks are going to burn in six months. The night a large, white bird nests on the ship."

Marik sighed. "Ryo, even Godsi is too young to inherit Isis' talents, and Qadir is a boy. Men can't be oracles."

Ryo smile. "And everyone who endures the Trial dies."

Marik watched Ryo. "What did my sister tell you?"

"That she saw over one hundred visions where Kek died after taking the Trail."

Marik and Bakura gave each other a shocked looked before they turned back to Ryo. Bakura scowled. "Then why are you so calm?"

"She saw one hundred visions, but I have a thousand options. I'll see you both in the morning." Ryo closed the door.

* * *

Ryo slid under the sheets and closed his eyes. He wanted to sleep, rather he wanted to dream, but he instead found himself tossing from one end of the mattress to the other. Ryo sighed, looking up at the ceiling above him. Moonlight from the window lit the room enough for Ryo to trace the cracks above him. "Are you asleep?" Ryo whispered to the ceiling. "Are you already dreaming about me? Are you watching?"

Ryo felt heat pooling along his cheekbones as an idea came to him. He toyed with the top button of his shirt. "Are you awake and thinking about me? Or are you asleep and watching?" Ryo asked the cracks in the ceiling again, and the moonlight, and the shadows in the room. "I guess the worse case scenario is that I'm crazy, but what do I really care if I'm mad? One more lunatic in this world is like a raindrop in the sea."

He flicked the button loose, and then the next. When his shirt lay open, exposing his milk-white chest, Ryo brushed his fingertips against his skin, shivering. He hadn't touched him self, not sensually, since his last night with Kek. Ryo close his eyes and sighed and his fingers danced down his stomach and below his belt line. He kicked off the covers and removed his cloths, taking his time caressing his skin, imagining Kek shadowing his movements with hands made of dreams and visions. Ryo avoided his groin at first, teasing himself as much as he wanted to tease Kek, but his fingers slowly inched their way closer. He smoothed along the sensitive skin between his thigh and groin, gasping from the sensation of being touched. He wanted Kek's fingers, Kek's tongue, tracing slow circles along his sensitive body. "Kek, I hope you can see this. I want you to be here so bad it hurts."

Ryo submitted, rolling a single, light circle against his tip with the flat of his palm. He gasped and breathed hard as his hand circled a little faster. After a minute of toying with his tip, he grabbed himself properly, squeezing up and sliding down. The faster he stroked, the louder the breath rasped from his mouth. He teased his pubic sack with his left hand, right hand still stroking his shaft. "It'd be better . . . with your hands."

Ryo shuddered, drawing close. He slowed down his strokes and reduced the pressure of his grip. "Not yet. I'll let you watch a little longer."

Ryo arched his back, resisting the urge to buck into his closed fist. The entire time he imagined Kek watching, licking his lips with envy. The image broke his restraint and Kek's name slipped strangled and whispered from Ryo's lips as he came onto his stomach. Exhausted, Ryo sunk into the mattress, tucking the blanket around his body. "Maybe now I can meet you," Ryo whispered as he felt his mind relax enough to sleep. He eyes jerked open again when he felt fingers brush against his cheek. "Kek?" Ryo blinked, his heart beating hard.

Kek sighed, his eyes bright even in the shadows. "Ryo," he all but moaned Ryo's name. "That was . . . that was fun to watch." His chest rose and fell with rapid breathing. "It's been, it's been so long, and – you're so wicked."

Ryo grabbed Kek and pulled him down onto the bed, silencing him with a kiss. They both trembled in each other's arms as they tasted one another. Kek pulled away first, giving Ryo a wary look. "You . . . remember this time?"

Ryo brought their lips together, just enough to touch; he spoke into Kek's mouth. "I know you're really here."

Kek sighed, relieved. "Good."

"Shhh." Ryo silenced Kek with another kiss.

Kek grunted against Ryo's mouth, his hands fumbling up and down Ryo's shoulders. Ryo shimmied Kek's slacks down past his ass and teased his fingers along Kek's shaft. Kek's grunts changed to short-breathed gasps as Ryo caressed him. Kek reached into Ryo's pants and Ryo groaned. They stroked one another as they slid their tongues back and forth between their mouths.

"It's been so long. It's been so long," Kek keened in a soft, needful whisper.

"Is it good?" Ryo cooed in Kek's ear, using both hands to squeeze Kek's phallus.

"Mmmmm" Kek purred, letting go of Ryo's shaft and grabbing his shoulders. The muscles in in Kek's chest and arms bulged into tight knots as he neared climax. "R-ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo!"

Ryo leaned a little closer to Kek, one hand on Kek's shaft and the other manipulating the tip. "I love watching you when you're close. Your face scrunches up in the cutest way."

Kek opened his glazzies, the color of bergamot blossoms, a moment and stared at Ryo. He panted against Ryo's cheek and a diamond of sweat rolled down his neck and settled into the hollow of his throat and collarbone. His eyes fluttered closed once again and he whimpered as he came. When it was over, Ryo sighed and slid his hands up to Kek's hips. "I miss you."

Kek pushed Ryo against the bed and started kissing down his chest and abs.

Ryo felt his face warm as Kek's mouth continued down his body. "You don't have to. I already finished before I went to sleep.

Kek licked Ryo's tip and grinned when Ryo gasped. "We have until morning. Why not make the most of it?"

He lowered himself down and Ryo gasped again. "It really has been a long time, hasn't it?" he muttered as Kek sucked. Kek grunted in response, the vibrations tingling up to Ryo's navel. Ryo wrapped his knees on either side of Kek's head. "Oh gods, lovey, you've always been extra horror show at this."

Ryo couldn't keep his hands out of Kek's hair. He squeezed his thighs tight and squirmed his hips and he tugged on Kek's hair. "Now this, _ahhh_ , is what I wanted when I touched myself. I wanted you."

Kek brushed his thumb against Ryo's testicles, still sucking. Ryo threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut and screamed as he came, pulling Kek's hair as hard as he could. When he let go, his arms fell against the mattress. "Kek," Ryo whispered, his body spent and his thoughts floating.

"I've missed you too," Kek said.

Ryo sucked in a deep breath and pushed himself up, grabbing Kek and reversing their positions on the bed. He laughed. "It's your turn again." Ryo sucked on Kek's pomegranate-tinted nipple, nipping and flicking his tongue against the bud until it was stiff.

Kek grabbed the sheets with both his fists. "Y-you sure?"

"Like you said – we have all night, and I know you're never really finished after the first one."

Kek turned to the side, as if a little embarrassed about Ryo's statement. It made Ryo give his lover a devilish grin as he kissed down Kek's abs. He winked. "Nothing wrong with having a man's appetite."

Kek snorted, tilting his head up and staring at Ryo. "How can I ever get enough when it's with you?"

Kek's words made Ryo's heart smack against his ribcage. He swallowed and sighed before sinking down and licking up Kek's shaft. He opened his mouth and sealed his lips below the base of the hood, pulling back and dragging his lips against Kek's skin. He licked along the curve of the head, and then gave a slow, broad lick to the slit. Kek growled in pleasure, digging his nails deep into the sheets.

Ryo sucked on his mid finger and then slipped it inside Kek's anus. Kek grunted, the action rough with only saliva as lubrication, but once Ryo had his finger inside, hooking the digit up into the softness of Kek's body, Kek's growls of pleasure turned into mewls. Ryo licked Kek's head a few more times. He took Kek's length fully into his mouth, pulling up slow and pressing his lips tight against Kek's smooth skin. He pushed his finger as far as he could into Kek's body, feeling a soft mound of burgeoning flesh within the warm tissue and he focused on rubbing that area as he continued to slide his mouth up and down.

Kek expanded in Ryo's mouth. Ryo's jaw hurt from the pressure of Kek's girth, but he refused to slow down, encouraged by Kek chanting _god, god, god,_ continuously as Ryo worked. Saliva dripped from Ryo's lips, lubricating Kek's shaft and allowing Ryo to take him deeper. He kept his eyes closed and enjoyed Kek's screams and the feeling of Kek pushing into his mouth.

"Ryo. _God. Oh God. Ryo – oh God!"_

Heat and thickness poured into Ryo's throat as Kek came. Kek's screams and body flinching with pleasure would have Ryo hard again, if he hadn't already came twice himself. When Ryo finished drinking in the last of his lover, he withdrew his hand and mouth and crawled up the mattress to lay beside Kek. "Horror show." Ryo laughed.

Kek traced his finger along Ryo's lips. "In the summer I would sneak into the priest's' gardens at night and steal raspberries. That's what your lips look like – berries ripe from the bush gleaming in the moonlight."

"Bloody hell, lovey, I don't have any memories from childhood that beautiful to compare you to. The most beautiful moments of my life have been with you."

"You said you can remember everything I say. What about when we're together like this?"

"Yes, love, even in my dreams. I'll remember everything you say to me until the maggots eat the words from my brain."

* * *

"It's already too cold." Marik pressed into Bakura's side. They rode their wagon North. They had sold their props and costumes, again, and used the space to store grain, legumes, root vegetables, dried fruits, and liquor.

Bakura tucked the wools higher around Marik's shoulders and wrapped his arms around him. Ryo drove the wagon in the mornings, giving them time to lie together in their hammock alone. He brushed golden strips of hair away from Marik's face. "Would you like to get warm?"

Marik smirked. "Hmmm, what did my thief have in mind?"

Bakura slipped his fingers under their wools and against Marik's pubic bone.

Marik jerked at Bakura's touch. "Ah, no. Your fingers are cold."

Bakura chuckled. "Half a moment, lovey. I'll have them and you warm soon enough. Then you'll nag me to take the covers off."

"I doubt it."

"Spoiled prince, we haven't even gotten to the true Northern lands yet. Wait till you see fields so white that it burns your eyes to behold in the sunlight."

Marik snorted, tolerating Bakura's cold fingers teasing his groin. "I don't see how your damned brother stays in such a good mood. I can't stand this wretched cold."

"Surely for all our jokes of fey and albatrosses, the North is probably what's really in his blood. There? Is that getting better?"

Marik still fussed under the blankets, but now his movements were aimed towards Bakura's touches instead of away from them. "Don't stop, I'm still cold."

Bakura chuckled. "So demanding." He grabbed a bottle of olive oil stored in a cubby near their hammock. He pressed it against their bodies to warm the bottle.

Marik flinched again. "Dammit, that's freezing, get it away from me, Bakura."

"You know it won't pour from the bottle until it's warmer."

"Then you warm it."

Bakura tried to silence Marik with a kiss, but Marik frowned into his lips. It was moments before dawn and Marik never acted cordial until the sun fully stood in the sky. Bakura sighed and shook the bottle, hearing the oil slush inside. He popped the cork and doused his hand, smirking. He slipped his fingers under the blanket and toyed with Marik's entrance until it was as slippery as his fingers.

Marik grunted as Bakura entered him with thick fingers, his eyelashes fluttered. "Are you?"

"I thought you'd like to lay there until you've warmed up a bit."

Marik blushed, it was rare and Bakura drunk in the sight of him. "It's been a long time since we switched. I can't even remember the last time."

"Yes, let's see if I remember how to do this," Bakura teased, he wore a broad, uncharacteristic grin on his face, a reaction to Marik's ruddy cheeks. He filled his palm with pale yellow oil and used it to coat himself, stroking oil onto his skin until he was firm and hard and slick. He slipped a hand behind Marik's back and used his other hand to guide himself inside. Bakura didn't have much leverage in the hammock, but he managed to enter Marik. He shifted his body for a better angle adjusted the wools around his shoulders so the blankets covered as much of their bodies as possible.

Marik's breaths came out in faint puffs of steam, but he didn't seem to notice the cold any longer; his eyes hung lidded over his glazzies, the blush spread across his face, and his spun-gold hair scattered around his face and against the hammock. "B-bakura."

Bakura purred in response, his thoughts bleary from the feeling of Marik squeezed around him. He forgot about the chill in the air, Marik too warm beneath him to worry about the rest of the world. He continued to hold Marik with one hand and used to other to brace against the wall to help him move. They both gasped, trying not to moan, the rocking of the wagon, creaking wheels, and oxen complaints covered most of their noise, but they still held back.

"Bakura," Marik repeated, kicking one leg out against the wall to keep the hammock from swinging. "Bakura."

Bakura planted a kiss on Marik's collarbone. "Mmm, my prince."

"Bakura!"

Bakura quieted Marik with a kiss. "Shhh, lovey."

Marik groaned in response, but as hushed as he could manage. One hand clawed at Bakura's tanned back, the other tugged at his silver-white hair. "Can, c-can you go faster? Please?"

Bakura readjusted his hold on the wall and pushed harder, their hammock swung until it crashed against the wall. Bakura grit his teeth at the impact, forcing himself to slow down again. Marik pushed at Bakura's chest. "Floor," he demanded, pulling the wools off their bodies.

"Told you." Bakura smirked.

"Floor."

They climbed out of their hammock and crashed against the wool blankets scattered on the wagon's floorboards. Marik wrapped his legs around Bakura's waist as Bakura pushed himself deep and fast, his biceps and pectorals taut from his efforts. Bakura and Marik both reached for Marik's erection at the same time. Their hands fumbled over Marik's cock for a minute before Marik grunted and smacked Bakura's hand away to he could stroke himself. Bakura grinned and watched Marik's face crease with pleasure as his orgasm drew close.

"Bakura."

"Marik."

"Oh Bakura."

"My prince."

"Ba-ku-ra."

"My love."

"Sweet sodding God!" Marik screamed as he hiked his hips up towards Bakura's body and ejaculated.

Bakura felt his face burning, as if Marik were the sun and they were still in the searing East. He continued to rock hard into Marik's body until he felt himself unfurl. He trembled as his tired arms kept his body propped over Marik. Bakura looked down with a weary grin. "Cold?"

Marik snorted, his face rosy and sweat-dappled. "I could get used to you taking charge."

"Make me do all the work as usual?" Bakura winked at Marik.

"I can't help it. You're so good at hard work."

Bakura snorted, pulling out of Marik and finding a terry cloth to clean them up. "Get back in the hammock before you get cold again."

Marik stretched and yawned before taking the blankets and settling back into their hammock. "I wouldn't mind getting cold again if you'd warm me again."

Bakura leaned towards Marik, rubbing the tip of their noses together. "Next time, you warm me."

"Impudent servant."

Bakura grinned. "Five minutes ago it was sweet, sodding god."

Marik propped his head up on his hand and elbow, hair spilling over his shoulder. "Yeah, that was five whole minutes ago."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Marik pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, smiling when the hamlet peeked into their view between rocky crags and thick clusters of juniper, cedar, and spruce. "Thank God, a village in this frozen wilderness. I want the room with the biggest hearth when we find an inn."

"We'll get furs to replace our woolens, even I've been miserable cold these last two weeks."

Ryo glanced over at them, his hair brushing against his shoulders, as if the cold weather forced it to grow fast to keep his neck warm. "It's not that cold," he teased.

"Shut-up."

"I'll agree with Marik this one time. Shut-up, Ryo. You know damn well it's cold."

The wind blew white strands of hair around Ryo's face as he smiled. "Some soup and shard-bread and a mug of hot tea should fix you both once we're away from the wind and in a building."

Their oxen lumbered the wagon closer to the hamlet. Silver-blue smoke uncurled from wide, stone chimneys, but that was all they could see in detail because of the high wall surrounding the town.

"There's something unnerving about a walled village to me," Marik said, staring at the gray stones covered in frost. "I understand cities with walls, but a hamlet like this?"

"The beasts grow large in the North," Ryo answered, his eyes blazing a bright green as he spoke. Even the walls don't always help protect against the drakes."

"How do you know?" Bakura asked, silver eyebrow raised. "We've never traveled this far North."

Ryo smiled again, this time wider. "Kek tells me stories at night, when we're asleep."

Marik and Bakura exchanged glances at one another. Marik turned to Ryo, asking, "really?"

Ryo pulled the sun medallion from under his clothing. They didn't need it anymore, the treasure already theirs, but Ryo still wore it as a forget-me-not. "Yes. I thought they were dreams at first – a desperate attempt of my mind to sooth me from loneliness – but after seeing your sister I decided they were true."

Marik frowned as he thought for a moment. "How is that possible?"

"He's an oracle like your sister."

"But he's—"

"Male. I know. Godsi and Qadir both have their mother's gift as well. I don't like to believe in fables either, Marik, but what am I to do when the fables are true?"

"Huh." Bakura scratched the back of his silver hair. "Well yarbles, I'm staying away from magic swords and red mead."

Marik spun towards Bakura, his mouth still in a frown. "What?"

"That whole day your niece and nephew kept rambling stories at me, and I just decided that maybe I should have paid more attention."

Marik furrowed his honey-colored brows at Bakura. "So now you believe in oracles? Although you've doubted my sister the near decade we've been together?"

"Ryo is the most practical bastard I know. He hates anything to do with fantasy when it's not on a stage. If he's convinced so am I."

They rode close to the hamlet. Spruce trees crowded the trail and blocked the view of everything other than the sky. Marik held the reins and urged the oxen forward. He looked at the brothers sitting beside him, only relatable to one another by their pale hair. His chapped lips twerked up in a half grin. "So only one drink of the red mead?"

Ryo winked at him. "For you two. I can handle more.

* * *

Ryo took in the village. Low, single story, stone houses that probably used more room for keeping swine and sheep out of the cold instead of people. The center of town that served as a _market_ _district_ consisted of a inn that doubled as a tavern and three or four various stores for common items. Despite the frost and the rock-burdened soil, Ryo noticed blades of grass pushing between stones around the cottages and along the road. Ryo imagined the townsfolk to be like those blades of grass, hardy, forcing their existence in a territory that made things inhospitable for them.

"We better try and find a stable for the oxen before they freeze," Bakura said.

"Hopefully the tavern," Marik said.

They parked and went into the inn. It had the glory of being the largest building in the hamlet, three times longer that the other buildings, but still single storied. Ryo pushed open the door, warmth washed over him as he stepped inside.

"I'm never going outside again." Marik still had a gray, woolen blanket wrapped around his shoulder in addition to layers of his warmest clothing.

Ryo's lips shifted up as he looked at Marik, bulky from clothing, hair down instead of it's usual ponytail. His brother looked slightly less ridiculous. He also bundled layers of clothing around himself until he looked like a giant bear with a wool coat instead of fur, but at least he didn't hold a blanket around his shoulders like a starry baboochka.

The buildings were set in stone instead of thatched from wattle, but daub still clung to the interior walls in smooth, brown layers. Aromatic cedar burned in the fireplaces and dried herbs littered the floor, but they couldn't completely mask the smell of sheep manure; however, when it was cold – deep, in your bones, frost in your lashes, cold – a faint stable odor was nothing as long as the flames burned high and yellow in their hearths. Everything inside was crafted bone and fur and antler and hoof, nothing wasted, just like scraps in a galley ship, not even the bones wasted.

Ryo walked up to the desk where the tavern master stood watching them. He wore a long beard, braids covering a center of lose but well-combed, iron gray hair that matched his glazzies. Ryo tapped a gold coin on the surface of the desk to get the man's attention. He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by Ryo's display.

Ryo slid the coin in the man's direction. "Two rooms, one with a large hearth if you can accommodate. Also bread, meat, and mead, and shelter for our two oxen."

"Eat them." The man snorted. "North isn't for oxen. If they don't break their leg on a stone, the cold will kill them."

"Perhaps." Ryo nodded. "But not today if you can find shelter for them."

The tavern master's gray glazzies skirted from Ryo to his companions. He laughed, loud and crisp and harsh like the clean but cold late-morning air. "You're right. I should tend to the oxen, they have a better chance of surviving than your friends."

Bakura smirked, amused, but Marik narrowed his eyes, insulted.

Ryo nodded. "Yes, but I keep those two around, in case I ever need to feed them to the oxen."

Marik frowned deeper, but the tavern owner rolled laughter from his keg of a torso. He traded the gold coin in Ryo's hand for two keys. Sit at a table and the woman will feed you."

'The woman' had the same iron gray hair, long with the top half braided and the bottom half loose and draped down her back. Crow-feet lined her blue glazzies, but the skin of her breast was as pale and smooth as any devotchka half her age. The fur-trimmed, boiled wool corset pushed her cleavage so high and round that Ryo caught himself daydreaming of nuzzling against her bosom – it looked that cozy. His imagination then conjured the image of his brother falling to the floor with laughter and never letting Ryo live the moment down.

The tavern mistress set mugs of grog and warmed, hard cider at their table. Next she brought shard-bread, leek pottage, sheep's milk cheese, and lamb with currants and mint sauce. Ryo ate like he was on shore leave; the cold made him hungry. After their meal she gave them blueberries and heavy, whipped cream with a sweet mead served in horn flasks.

"Better slow down. This isn't the watered down coffee we've been drinking in the East." His brother warned as Ryo drank his second horn.

'The woman' took Ryo's flask and filled it for a third time. "He's fine. You're the one flushed as a virgin after a single cup's worth. This is a good brunch mead, nutritious as milk suckled straight from your mother's nipple. Let the boy drink his fill. He'll grow strong."

Ryo raised his eyebrows to taunt his brother. Bakura rolled his glazzies and finished his own horn of mead, shaking his head no when 'the woman' offered to refill the flask. After eating they went to their rooms, but Ryo realized he wasn't tired. He heated water and washed, but then decided to go outside for fresh air.

Ryo found a tree stump near the edge of town and he used it as a bench and practiced his tin whistle. The cold made it tricky, his fingers stiff and the chilled metal bit at his lips, but after a few songs he managed to coerce the sounds he wanted from the instrument. On the way back to the inn he bought proper clothing. Ryo chose a linen vest quilted and thick with downing to provide insulation covered by a thicker, fur-lined vest made from felted loden wool. He wanted the vest instead of the long-sleeved tunics he purchased for Marik and Bakura because they often had to dig the wagon out of ruts or help lead the oxen through rocky patches of road and he didn't want his arms bogged down with the weight of wool and fur. Instead of sleeves, Ryo found a pair of gloves, opened at the fingers for more agile movement, that climbed up to his biceps and laced up with hide cord. He also bought warmer britches for all of them and heavy felted cloaks – no more blanket for Marik.

He also bought a large, duffel style rucksack to store their extra clothing inside. He lugged the heavy bag back to the tavern so he could change and help make his companions look less ridiculous. Inside, he stopped a moment to rest and enjoy the heat of the fire in the main lobby. He could hear the tavern master arguing and a young girl sobbing. Ryo glanced over to see a girl covering her glazzies with two tight-clenched fists.

"Enough, Geurda, you stay here until she returns."

"You're not listening!" the girl near shrieked. "She should have returned yesterday. She's never late."

The innkeeper rested a heavy hand on the girl's shoulder. "It's dangerous in the forest, but your mother has been collecting herbs since she was your age. She'll be back."

"If she's late, she's hurt somehow."

"Go to the kitchen. Your aunt's in there."

"But she won't listen either."

Her hair gleamed like the well-groomed feathers on a corbie's wing, but her skin was a wan as Ryo's. The Northerners were fair and pale, but this was the first person Ryo ever saw with skin that truly matched his. Perhaps that's why he found himself kneeling beside the girl and lowered her fists away from her glazzies, blue like her aunt's. "What's wrong?"

"She's just fretting." The innkeeper waved his hand as if the gesture could dismiss the child.

The girl sniffed, regarding Ryo for a moment to decided if she trusted him enough to talk. "My mother is an apothecary. She collects her own herbs and roots in the old forest, but hasn't come back yet."

"She'll be back, Geurda," her uncle insisted.

Geurda's face twisted into a miserable expression as if she knew better but couldn't bare explaining it again to mules that wouldn't listen.

"How far is the woods?"

"A few miles north of town."

Ryo nodded, smiling. "Not far, but perhaps she turned her ankle and is slow returning? Well then, I suppose she'd need a shoulder to act as a crutch, wouldn't she? I'll go look for her."

The girl's blue glazzies blinked in disbelief. "Really? Really?"

"Let me change into proper clothes and I'll leave right away."

"That's not necessary," the innkeeper said.

Ryo's smile widened. "I shouldn't take long, take _really_ good care of my oxen while I'm gone."

"You're not going alone."

Ryo turned at the sound of his brother's voice. "It should only take a few hours, Bakura."

"Last time I let you out of my sight for more than five minutes you went on account and became a pirate. Who knows how much trouble you're about to get yourself into now."

Ryo sighed, knowing he wasn't going to win an argument against his older brother. "I got us better garb."

"We should get that to Marik. He's currently in a nest as close to the hearth as he can get without setting the blankets on fire."

Ryo thought Bakura jested until he entered the room with their new clothing and saw the pile of furs and woolens near the fireplace. "Gods, Marik, it really isn't that bad."

"To you," Marik snapped. "I can't stand this. I can't."

"Here. Put these on. They should help."

Marik stared at the furs as if they were holy relics. He dressed like a shy maiden, taking off clothes in pieces and replacing them before moving on in order to show as little skin as possible. Ryo smirked as he watched, amused by his brother's sulking face as he was denied a view of a body he'd already seen nude countless times. However, after Marik dressed and tried to wrap his old blanket over his cloak, Ryo's smirk dropped to a grave expression. "Marik, what are you doing? You look like an old granny with that shawl wrapped around your shoulders. That's why I bought you a cloak."

"It's still cold," Marik said.

"Oh lovey." Bakura sighed. "Bare with it just a little longer and you'll be better off."

"A little longer? It's going to take us months to cross this frozen hell and get to the exiled lands of the East. My sister picked the worst _possible_ route." Marik sat back down on the floor and pulled the fur blankets around him. "Maybe you should go without me."

"No, no," Bakura insisted, pulling the blankets away from Marik. Marik tried hanging on, but Bakura was stronger and resolute in taking them. "This is an adventure and when they sing of these days I refuse your verse to be about sleeping under a blanket."

"You stupid, mulish, insolent servant," Marik growled, standing up since his blankets were gone. "You are making this up to me. I don't know how, but I'll think of something extravagant."

Bakura grinned. "Sounds fun. I can't wait, but until then let's go."

"Besides, we'll be back here before supper." Ryo shrugged, wondering why his statement made his brother laugh.

* * *

Bakura knew the rest of the story, or at least highlights of it. He only remembered snatches of what his niece and nephew told him, but they were enough for him to know that they wouldn't return before supper. When they went to the inn's lobby, the tavern master stood and waited for them.

"I still think my fey-born, trouble of a kid sister is fine, but Geurda's been overprotective of her mother since her father died of fever last winter. I appreciate what you're doing, so I'll lend you two of our ponies to take into the woods. Should make the searching quicker."

Ryo gave the innkeeper a slight bow. "We appreciate it."

"Stay on the trail," he warned. "She probably went into the deeper shrubs for herbs, but you're not locals and you'd freeze to death before you found the trail again."

"We'll just ride for a bit. I'm sure we'll see her on the road returning and then we'll offer her a ride home." Ryo nodded his head. He had a way with people that Bakura never understood, but secretly admired. His easy smile and ocean green eyes worked magic on strangers and got them to lower their guard – very useful in their former professions, though Bakura supposed it was a useful trait of a hero as well.

They wouldn't stay on the trail, Bakura didn't need oracle children to tell him that much. He may not have foresight, but Bakura knew story structure, and the great tales never happened to those who stayed on the path. They rode North, Bakura and Ryo singing _Wolves of the Sea_ , as they traveled – Bakura chose the song to be facetious. Their ponies were thick, squat, shaggy beasts that didn't stumble as they clod along the stone poxed path. Bakura held one of the long, white manes, Marik clutched Bakura's waist, shaking. Bakura removed his cloak and wrapped it around his lover's shoulders and Marik's thistle-blossomed eyes softened when he looked at Bakura with gratitude.

He glanced over at his younger brother. Ryo wore slender, more practical gear and looked like he was going home as they headed into thicker foliage, but Bakura knew Ryo would never accept the North until he returned with Kek. Still, the land suited him; he wore the terrain like a cloak and the culture of the Northerners like a birthmark.

The trees thickened, casting gray-blue shadows along the ground. Frost lay thick at the base of the trees and rivulets of ice marred the ground. From the shadows and grasses flowers bloomed out of small patches of snow. Deep, blood red, and deep, royal violet, they looked like irises only smaller. Their scent lingered in the air, mixing with the smells of frozen earth and evergreen.

Cardinals hopped from tree to tree, reminding Bakura of splats of blood. Gray squirrels and chipmunks also crawled along trunks and branches as they searched for food. The forest was loud with the bird and rodent chatter. The noise surprised Bakura; it didn't seem right that a land so cold would have so much life in it, especially beneath the dark and shadows of the canopy.

"How much longer?" Marik asked behind him, teeth chattering.

"A bit longer, lovey."

"It's worse in the shade." Marik pressed his face into the fur lining of Bakura's collar.

He wasn't used to seeing Marik so needy. It should annoy him, but instead it brought out an odd hungry in Bakura. The more Marik whimpered, the more Bakura wanted to laugh at him and shut him up with a hard, biting kiss.

A howl broke the scenic landscape. Bakura smiled at the noise. The single call grew to a song, one of hunting.

"At least the horses aren't spooked," Ryo said.

"No, I don't believe any creature in these lands spooks easy."

"No. I suppose not."

They listened as the rode. The howls grew louder. Ryo stopped near a footpath branching off into the deeper brush. "Well, bugger."

"What is it?" Marik asked, face still half buried into Bakura's tunic.

Ryo dismounted and walked into the holly. He bent down and lifted up a basket of herbs from the ground. "I think this quest just became a little more complicated."

"We'd get lost in there." Bakura snorted, suppressing a smirk. He acted, playing the part of himself. He knew what he'd think and how he'd act in this situation – had he not know the story. He didn't want to change anything, so he pretended to scowl. "We should mark this spot and take that basket back to the tavern. Let the locals search for their own."

"Bakura." Ryo's jaw hardened into a hard line, like a ridge of white ice bordering a tremulous river. "I don't think those are ordinary wolves, and they're hunting. There probably isn't enough time to go back."

"I don't know. What do you think, Marik?"

"I think I'm cold and I think Ryo will punch your face if you argue with him. He's got that look you brothers get when you're set on a thing."

"Well, I'm too pretty to get hit in the face. Best we follow you then, Ryo."

Ryo glared at Bakura, knowing his brother was at some game but not understanding it. He chose to look away, gaze following the path into the hemlock and ferns. "Let's go. I've gotten the fancy in my mind that I'd to see a smile on that young devotchka's face and that won't happen if I don't bring her mother back with us."

"How you made it as a pirate is beyond me," Marik complained as their horses left the trail.

Ryo smirked, the odd facial habit he'd developed over the last year. "I'm not a character stuck in a single role. I'm real I can choose to act whatever part I wish."

Bakura decided to jab at Ryo a bit. "And when you're not on the stage?"

"That's the answer I need to find, isn't it? Before I get to the Exiled Islands?"

"Right now you need to find that women."

"True."

The forest crowded thick around them. Their ponies' shaggy manes and coats tangled in the branches and collected burrs. Ryo and Bakura dismounted to lead the animals onward. Marik stayed mounted, wrapped in two cloaks and still shivering. His skin looked pale and frost collected thick on his sandy lashes as tears pushed in the corners of his eyes from the stinging cold air. Bakura frowned at him. He felt cold, but manageable in his new garb; however, Marik looked ill. Bakura patted his thigh. "Perhaps we'll eat supper in our rooms tonight, Marik. I can draw you a hot bath and give you hot drinks."

Marik only nodded in response. The lack of a biting response concerned Bakura.

"You can take him back," Ryo offered. He also looked concerned. "I'm fine on my own."

"I'm fine," Marik said, but his voice was flat and quiet.

"We'd get lost." Bakura shook his head, knowing his words were true.

Ryo laughed, staring at the darkness behind them. "What makes you think I know the way back?"

Bakura gestured ahead of them. "Are those ruins?"

Ryo turned to look. "What's all this?" he asked no one in particular. Stone walls, barely visible through overgrowth, greeted them as did another chorus of howls.

They investigated, the forest reclaimed the courtyard centuries ago. They entered the main halls, saplings growing between cracks in the stone floor. The back wall was down on the right side, exposing a rocky accent that rose above their view. A scrap of cloth, a piece of cloak similar to their own, blew at them from a bush right outside the broken wall. "At least we're still on her trail." Bakura shrugged.

"Should we tie the ponies?" Ryo asked. "They'll slow us down, but tied up they'll be easy target for the wolves."

"Tie them," Bakura answered. Godsi said they went on foot.

"Yeah, that's probably best. They have enough sense to stay quiet. We're better bait for wolves, I suppose."

Bakura helped Marik dismount, keeping both cloaks secured around his shoulders. Ryo lead them past the broken wall and up the juts of rock. Bakura elbowed Marik in the ribs. "Want to bet, lovey?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Whoever draws his weapon first, loses."

A trace of Marik's usual arrogance warmed his face. "Sure? Last time we did that one, you lost miserably."

"Idiots." Ryo frowned at the memory. "Damned idiots. You could have just waited one more damned minute."

"That was an innocent mistake," Bakura defended himself. "Gods, Ryo, you were creeching so loud that I thought he was killing you."

"Shut your sodding mouth. I've heard you creech louder."

"And beg for more." Marik tried to smile, but the expression looked cold and stiff.

"Okay." Bakura crossed his arms across his chest, although it made walking awkward. "Care to join us in this little bet?"

Ryo shook his head. "Not really, I don't want to give the winner a blow job. Isn't that what you usually bet as the prize?"

"We'll change it up. Loser has to write and sing a song – something embarrassing like, like a . . ." Bakura tried to think of the most embarrassing song they could perform in front of an audience.

"Like a love song." Marik laughed. "Not a limerick. It has to be a genuine, makes the ladies sigh and hold their chest over their hearts, romantic, love song, and they have to sing it in the tavern."

"Hah, yes, that will do. Whoever draws their weapon first has to write and sing a love song."

Marik glanced at him, looking a little thawed as the walking heated their bodies. "And when you write this song, Bakura, I want you to put all your feelings into it."

"Me? Who say's I'm going to lose?"

"You always lose. I can't wait to see you in front of everyone singing to me."

"Marik, I will kick a wolf in the face before draw my daggers first and lose this bet. You should get your sword and you pen ready."

"Hopefully it won't come to that," Ryo said.

"Oh? So you're in on this bet, Ryo?" Marik asked.

"Sure, why not. I think it'll be sweet to hear a song Bakura writes for you."

"Piss off the both of you."

They reached an area where the ground flattened. Marik frowned. "I'm sorry, Ryo, but I don't think we're going to find her alive."

They looked at the opening between two large boulders. "That cave looks like the perfect den for a large pack of wolves and if they herded her to their lair . . ."

Ryo clenched his fist. He jaw set in another hard line. "Then I'll find a memento."

"We need to turn back now before it gets dark Ryo or we won't survive long enough to return a memento."

"Then go back." Ryo stepped into the cave.


	18. Chapter 18

***Snap. I almost forgot tho post this. ***

* * *

Chapter 18

Marik scowled at the den's entrance, shouting into the black. "At least make a torch! God, Ryo, you can be as dumb as your brother sometimes."

"I'm working on it." Ryo's call came back echoed.

"At least he had enough sense to bring a rucksack, unlike us." Bakura smiled.

"I am not made for adventures." Marik shrugged. He wasn't proud of the confession.

"No. Even on the ship you always watched while the rest of us worked." Bakura winked. "I suppose it's my fault for spoiling you."

Ryo called to them. "I can hear you out there prattling, so if you're coming hurry and get in here or I'll leave with the torch."

Bakura offered his arm as an escort and Marik took it out of amusement. It was less cold in the cave. They walked down a narrow hall of rock, following the erratic yellow light from Ryo's torch. The stone opened up and they found themselves in a large, open cavern.

"Look, more ungodly amounts of treasure. If I knew it was so easy to find the gold of dead men, we would have sold our wagon a long time ago."

Ryo sneered at the treasure as if each coin was a festering boil. "Refill your wallet if you must, but don't take too long. We're looking for something more important than shinnies."

Bakura poked around in the various treasure for several minutes. He filled a satchel with specific gems and handed it to Marik to carry. Marik raised a questioning eyebrow. "Really? Don't we have enough waiting for us?"

"Travel expenses." Bakura shrugged, placing a gold ring on his finger as if to punctuate his sentence. "Besides, I like the color of the gems."

"You're a scruffy, little magpie that chirps too much, you know that?"

"You're a lazy cat that serves no purpose other than something to stroke."

Marik bared his teeth in a grin, leaning closer. "Don't cats hunt birds?"

Bakura closed the gap between them, their lips almost touching. "That's only a problem if I'm caught." He opened his mouth as if to kiss Marik but then straightened and looked around. "Dammit, did Ryo leave us behind?"

Marik blinked, realizing that it'd grown darker and irritated that he couldn't feel Bakura's mouth against his own. "Looks so."

"We better find him." Bakura grabbed Marik's hand and led him down a ledge of packed dirt and rock and to another section of cave used to store large wicker baskets filled with treasure. They could only see because Ryo lit a torch that sat in a wall scone.

Marik looked around. "I can't imagine anyone storing valuables so haphazardly. You think this den belonged to thieves who never had a chance to store their gains before the wolves returned home?"

"Well, it'd serve them right for not checking their hideout for scat." The way forked and Bakura frowned. "Great, which way did that tosser go?"

Marik nodded to their left. "Torchlight."

Before they stepped left, a growl cause both men to pause. They looked right and saw the wolf damn near the size of their pony and the color of fine campfire ash mixed with fresh snow. The creature snarled at them, ivory teeth and bright red gums exposed.

"Ah, the moment of truth," Bakura said, staring at the creature.

"Yes. In this case, I'd be happy to forfeit our bet, but I'm afraid I'm a bit of a fool, oh my thief."

"That's okay. I still love you, my prince."

"A worrisome confession considering our circumstances."

"You forgot your sword again, didn't you?"

"Well, you see, I was very cold."

The creature stepped closer, deciding who's throat to strike. Bakura stepped in front, trying to shield Marik with his body.

Marik swept his gaze across the room, praying for more options. "Bakura, to your left sticking out of one of the baskets of coin is a sword. It's Northern made, but if you give it to me I can use it well enough."

"And it doesn't count if it's not _my_ weapon I draw." Bakura grinned, hand stretching for the hilt hiding in shadows. Before he grabbed it, however, his hand stopped. "Wait. I don't think I should."

"Better hurry."

"No. Don't touch it," Bakura insisted.

"That wolf isn't going to wait all day."

"Marik, do not touch that sword."

"Why not?"

The wolf lunged and Bakura kicked out with his foot, a ridiculous move, but it connected to the wolf's nose. The creature jerked back, licking at its sensitive snout and eying Bakura with human-like hatred. Bakura glanced at Marik. "I think I pissed him off."

"You . . . did you really just kick it?"

"It worked."

"In any case – the sword?"

"No."

Marik shifted his weight to his back foot, preparing to lunge for the weapon himself, but before he could move and before the wolf attacked again, Ryo appeared. He wasn't wearing his cloak but he still had his torch as he waved the fire left to right in front of the wolf's face. "Back! Get back!" Ryo snarled at the creature. "Back now!"

It crouched low, growling, torchlight reflecting in its yellow eyes. Ryo growled back. "Piss off and back away!"

The wolf retreated.

Ryo shoved the torch in Bakura's hand. "Go, you should see Stena's lantern. There's more wolves about and we shouldn't leave her alone."

Bakura blinked at his younger brother as if he didn't know him. "Stena?"

"Geurda's mother. Hurry, Bakura."

Bakura turned down the hall; Marik followed him.

* * *

Kek winced when they entered the ship. He'd been dozing, watching Ryo ride through a dark wood and then into a stone labyrinth. When they woke him, eight hours from their last visit and without food or water, Kek knew they'd reached the Exile Islands. A knot twisted in Kek's stomach. The calm sustaining him until that moment fled and Kek squeezed Ryo's braid with both hands to keep them from shaking.

They fastened the manacles back on his wrists and lead him off the ship. Kek looked at the lifeless land, the skeletons of trees rising from the bare soil looked rotted and black, no leaves on their branches. "Is this where you were born as Hunters?" Kek mocked as they lead him to the Temple of Trials. He sank into the stagnate, gray mud below their feet. "These islands were holy and you stripped them of life just as you did your bodies."

They ignored him, taking him to a small structure erected from planks of the black, dead wood around them. Inside, Kek recognized three of the priests that raised him. The leader, he'd only known him as The Father, stood in the center. Candles surrounded them, giving the dark room a haunted appearance, the priests and hunters apparitions. The Father stared at Kek, eyes sad. "Child, you should never have run from us, but there is one last chance for redemption."

Kek spat on the floor.

"Has it been so long that you've forgotten the family who raised you?"

"Who raised me to hate myself. Who locked me in prayer-rooms without windows for weeks at a time without sunlight. Who lashed my arms and legs to avoid the scars _you personally_ carved into my back. I didn't _want_ to be a priest. I had no calling. I didn't come to you, but you f _orced_ your laws _unwillingly_ into my flesh."

"Better to let a babe starve?"

"Perhaps," Kek whispered. He stared at the braid of hair in his fist. "No." His teeth clenched. "I still hate you."

"If you must. Tell me, have you kept your vows?"

Kek refused to look at the priests. He focused on the braid of hair twined around his scarred hand. "I fell in love."

"Regrettable. Now you'll have to sleep."

"I don't regret it. If this were a tale that I could write." Kek looked at all three priests. "I wouldn't change a damn thing." He looked back down at Ryo's white hair and smiled. "Well, I would have wrote a happy ending."

The Father sighed. "Cleanse him."

The hunters dragged Kek to a large, wooden bucket. They tore the clothes off him and dropped the rags to the ground. For a moment he thought of his first time with Ryo, ripped dress, the scent of their shared cigar, his very first kiss tasting of rum and tobacco, the feel of nylon stockings as he rolled them away from Ryo's firm, pale calves. The hunters pushed Kek to his knees. They poured smaller buckets of cold water over Kek's head. He gasped as the water slapped his skin, making it pull together and pucker until it resembled to flesh of a plucked duck hanging from the galley rack. They lathered him with lye soap and scrubbed the lather off his body with stiff-bristled brushes. He remembered this. They forced the same ritual on him as a child, before carving the vows into his back.

Something dark trembled in Kek's chest. The more they scraped his skin with the boar's hair bristles and stung his nose with the scent of lye, the more he remembered all the pain and fear of his youth, and all the anger. The hunters yanked him to his feet. They dried him quick with terry cloth and forced him into a thin, white, linen shift. One of the three priests walked up to Kek; he tried to take Ryo's hair out of Kek's hand. Kek pulled his arm away. "No."

"It must go."

Kek brought the rope of hair up to his lips, squeezing his eyes shut and holding on to it. "You'll have to kill me."

"Father?" the priest asked.

The Father thought a moment before answering. "Since it is white, allow him to keep it."

Kek exhaled. His mind lost in memory. Ryo above him on a ledge of rock, short hair shifting in the breeze and tears making his cheeks red and puffy. Ryo, his Ryo, his unicorn made of foam with eyes the color of the ocean at dawn; Ryo in a inn, running his pale fingers over his white body to tease Kek who could only watch as a dream shadow; Ryo walking into a wolf den to search for a child's mother, telling himself that it was because the girl was fair – like him – but his true motive was to prevent another orphan coming into the world. Ryo didn't want to see children forced to live like him, to become strong from sheer necessity.

They forced Kek on a simple, wooden litter and carried him back outside into the dead environment. Kek hurt to see the wounded landscape. A fog hung in the air, Kek wished he could see the sunlight one last time. Kek shivered in the cold air as they ascended a mountain path. Shrines greeted them along the way, all void of offerings except one overran with nightshade. It was the only plant Kek saw growing, and only around the one shrine; he wondered which forsaken god or goddess it belonged to. After the shrines were the others who failed the Trial before Kek. Skeletons and corpses all wearing white shifts rested on slabs of marble. Stone gazebos protected the remains from the brunt of the elements, and there were no dogs or corbies to eat the remains. At the top Kek saw his own platform.

The Father stood with the sepulcher to his back and facing Kek. He held the Trial in his hands, a drink resting in an unadorned, stemless, pewter goblet. "Here you will sleep as if dead. You won't need food nor water. You'll stay animated as you suffer visions of horror. Only when you truly repent will God release you from your torment and allow you heart to stop."

The hunters set Kek's litter to the ground and unrolled a simple, reed mat in the mud so that Kek could walk to his grave without soiling his bare feet. Kek stared at The Father. "I won't suffer, and I won't repent. I'm going to dream of him. I'm going to watch him become a hero – the one he'd already be if the world hadn't convinced him that he wasn't worthy of the role."

The Father's gaze grew inquisitive.

Kek displayed the white slash of scar on his palm. "The one bound to my heart and breath. I have the ability to choose – nightmares or dreams – and I want to dream of my love."

"Blasphemy is another vow broken."

"If you want to see blasphemy against God, look at the land you've poisoned mixing your Trial. Look at your un-dead slaves that have no souls."

"Drink," The Father said.

Kek stood and marched to him, ripping the cup from his hands. "Not one nightmare. Come back in a year and look upon my face and then you'll know."

The Father scowled at the rope of hair coiled around Kek's hand. "You flung your soul aside for lust."

"Love."

The Father grabbed the loose end of the braid with his hand. "I can't allow you to keep a token of another man."

Kek's hand tightened around the braid, his other still holding the pewter goblet. His eyes grew dark like the sea at dusk, violet and fiery. "Let go. You have no right to touch it."

The Father ground his teeth, resolute in his decision. He pulled at the braid, still a bright, saturated white despite it's long travels. Kek refused to let go. The Father's lips curled back, also angry. "Restrain him."

Before the hunters could draw close, Kek took the heavy, metal goblet and smashed it into The Father's skull.

* * *

Ryo followed behind Marik, out of patience with their reckless style of adventure. The scone he lit on the wall still flicked yellow light against the stone walls. Ryo caught the basket of gold coins with his glazzies, a random sword peeking out of the chips of gold. Ryo grabbed the hilt and looked at it. Painted on the hardened leather hilt were snowflakes, detailed, all separate in their design. The sword looked old and tarnished, but not rusted so Ryo slung it around his shoulder and followed his brother and Marik.

Stena crouched in a corner of the cavern with her basket, gathering clusters of small mushrooms that illuminated with a faint, pale blue glow when away from the lantern light.

"Do you have enough?" Ryo asked her.

Stena looked up at Ryo, she had Geurda's black hair, only tied in a knot, and he innkeeper's gray glazzies. "Yes, my basket's full. Let's go."

She tried to hand Ryo back his felted cloak, but he shook his head. "You keep it for now. I'm okay." He felt cold. He even shivered a bit, but it wasn't so bad that he couldn't bare it.

She smiled at him, her lips thin and pale pink. "Thank you."

"We better hurry. The cold makes my friend sick and I don't want to be chewed and spat into the mouths of cubs."

She stood up, nodding. Bakura peered in the basket, scowling. "So all this drama for one soup-pot's worth of mushrooms?"

"For enough medicine to last several winters. A slice of one of these in a broth will double the effect of any other medicine I make."

"So you came here on purpose?" Marik asked.

"No, chased by the pack, but since I'm here." She shrugged. "Can't waste the chances the gods give you."

"Northerners," Marik said the word as a curse.

Ryo turned to his brother. "How's the torch?"

"It'll get us back."

"Then lead the way."

Bakura stepped forward. Before they entered the tunnel that would take them back to the fork in the second chamber, howls made all four people step closer to the others.

"Which direction?" Ryo asked.

"Who can tell with these echoes," Bakura answered.

"Marik, bugger the wager, grab your sword because I think we're fighting."

"Well, you see, Ryo." Marik stared at the stone floor and Ryo could tell that he was angry with himself.

Ryo grit his teeth. "Bakura, use the torch to keep them away from Marik and Stena."

"Yeah? So you can do what?"

Ryo curled his fingers around the sword-hilt. "Fight them."

"Ryo, where did you get that sword?"

"Out of a basket," Ryo answered. He frowned at his brother. "Bakura? Why do you look so pale?"

"Are you okay?"

"Are you barmy?"

Seven of them appeared, their snow-and-ash adversary from earlier, three soot gray liter brothers, two motley, and a single, stark black male padding in front of the others. The pack all had gold coins for glazzies, except their alpha, his stare glowed as bright and green as Ryo's eyes. Ryo felt an odd kinship to the wolf, although they were opposites. He pitch, Ryo pale, both slowly stepping towards the other as if pulled together by the gods.

Ryo drew the blade, hoping to intimidate the beast. It wasn't tarnished silver and steal as he'd assumed. When he held it up it flashed with light. Ryo frowned, the blade, hilt, guard, and pummel were all clear like ice. "It . . . didn't . . .look like that before." Ryo stuttered for words, not understanding the illusion in his hand.

"You . . . your holding . . ." Stena floundered for words, waiving the hand not holding the basket in the air as if her gestures could compensate for her lack of actual words.

Ryo had no time to ponder. The alpha sprang at Ryo. He held the clear hilt in both hands and ran to meet the sable wolf. They reached each other, the sword slipped past the wolf's throat, easy as an icy wind slipping through a cotton tunic. Drops of red sprayed from the wound, frozen like chips of rubies that glint in the torch light before scattering to the stone floor with the sound of small chimes. Ryo didn't understand, didn't think he should be alive. The other six lowered themselves on the ground, as if bowing.

He looked down at the blade in a daze, no blood clung to the edge which still gleamed like an icicle in sunlight despite the dark cavern around them. Ryo dropped the sword to the ground, it glittered a moment, hitting the ground and dulling back to something old and useless. Ryo stumbled to the sable alpha. The creature's glazzies looked like empty, green bottles. Ryo dropped to his knees, hands shaking. He'd never killed anything, not even a fish for a soup pot. Bakura, or Kek, or Sidd, sometimes even Marik (though he fussed like a pair of tits) they all took turns slaughtering the chickens or goats, but never Ryo. He wrapped his arms around the dead wolf and wailed. The pack keened with him.

* * *

Kek felt sick as the feeling of The Father's skull caved under the force of his blow. What was a living person a moment before became dead weight, hitting the floor and pouring red blood against the stone gazebo floor. Steam rose from the growing pool which spread wide enough to cover Kek's feet. He stepped back, revolted by the hot, tacky liquid sticking between his bare toes.

The hunters held him. They shoved him to the ground, the stones bruising Kek's knees and the blood soaking into his shift. He felt his hair yanked back and a cold, bone thin hand squeeze his jaw open. Another cup of liquid appeared above him in the chaos of hands and bodies. He tried to turn his head but couldn't.

One of the two remaining priests poured the maroon drink into Kek's mouth. It filled his mouth, thick and cold as the blood drying on his feet. Kek coughed, the drink spilling over his chin. A hand pinched his nose as more serum sloshed into Kek's mouth. They pressed his jaw shut. He held his breath but his wild, panicked mind forced him to gasp for air, and most of the drink slid down his gullet.

Kek gagged, wanting to vomit. He changed his mind. He didn't want the Trial. He was going to run again, and find Ryo, and try harder than before for a happy ending.

He should have tried harder for a happy ending.

From the very beginning. He shouldn't have resigned himself. He'd done nothing wrong – before – now with blood cold and clinging to his garb Kek thought of how he deserved nightmares.

* * *

Ryo still locked his fingers in the Alpha's fur. The tears that dried on his cheeks felt icy, but he wouldn't let go in order to wipe his face. The pack had left them, Ryo defeated their leader and the hunt was over, but he refused to let go.

Bakura knelt beside him, daggers in hand. "Ryo," he whispered. "I need his pelt. To make a cloak for Marik."

Thoughts came slow to his mind. Ryo mulled over Bakura's request, remembering Qadir telling him to give Marik the wolf's fur. Seeing the sense in it, he turned to Stena. "Is there a way to take his hide that's less . . . disrespectful?"

"Dead is dead. You can leave the den, I suppose."

"How do you bury your dead?"

Stena looked at Ryo like he was barmy. "We burn them on a pyre, but I wouldn't bother with a wolf. The corbies will clean him. That's their way."

And Ryo thought it was like at the inn – nothing wasted, not even a corpse – death for the wolf was life for the crow, and when summer came with the thaw violets would grow from the slits of the ribcage and the wolf's skull would become home to a fat toad. "We should fashion a stretcher."

Bakura nodded and found a tarp covering a pile of jeweled bangles and circlets and other treasures, and they secured the material to two pikes and rested the alpha's body in the center. Bakura and Ryo couldn't lift it by themselves, the animal too large.

"Here." Marik walked until he stood beside Bakura.

Stena slipped her basket higher up her arm and stood beside Ryo.

"You don't have to help. I sure we can manage with Marik."

She shook her head, scattering tresses of black along her face and neck. She refused to argue; instead, she looked at Ryo. "Don't forget the sword."

"What?" Ryo asked.

"The sword. It's yours."

Ryo shook his head. "No, it's not mine I found it. I should have never touched it."

"But you did touch it and it didn't freeze your skin. That means it's your sword."

Ryo frowned. Bakura pointed to the tarnished blade lying in the dust. "It's enchanted. That's why I wouldn't grab it."

"The twins?" Marik asked.

Bakura nodded. "They were very specific on that point."

"I don't want a sword." Ryo stared at the body of the wolf.

"That's irresponsible of you," Stena said. "You picked it up, and you used it. You can't leave the most legendary sword within the history of my people lying in the dirt like it's trash. When someone wields Glass, there's always longer summers."

"Oh bolshy yarbles," Ryo said. "You're welcomed to it. Give it to whoever you want."

Ryo felt weight on his shoulder, he turned and saw Bakura staring at him. "Ryo, if she touched it she'd lose her hand from frost bite. Weren't you listening? It's enchanted."

Ryo frowned and furrowed his white brows. "You better enjoy the long summers." He crouched down to return the sword to the scabbard on his back. In his hand it gleamed clear and bright, but when he covered the blade with its sheath, the handle looked worn.

Ryo knelt and adjusted the pike head over his shoulder. They marched slow, their balance awkward from the weight of the beast. They had to abandon their torch and use Stena's lantern, which she hung at the end of her pike. The sky was ash and fire when they exited the den. They found a suitable snow drift to rest, lowering their makeshift litter in the frozen powder at their feet. Bakura took his daggers, but Ryo stopped him by resting his hand on Bakura's wrist. "I should do it."

Bakura shook his head. "It's for Marik."

"But I took his life. I'm the only one that has the right to take his skin."

"That's true." Stena nodded.

Ryo pulled out his dagger and dropped to the ground. The snow soaked into the knees of his britches and numbed his skin. Ryo worked without speaking, the others watching in silence. When he'd removed the skin and scrapped it as dry as he could, he folded the hide and handed it to Marik. "I'm sorry, Marik. You've been suffering because of my roundabout journey for Kek."

"It's my damn fault, you know. If I had my sword I could have killed him my own damn self."

"You and Bakura are too sloppy. You would have killed the entire pack and left the cubs to starve."

Marik's eyes narrowed. "Who cares? If they attack people, why shouldn't people kill them in return?"

"North wouldn't be the North without the dire wolves. We need their howls at night. We need our heroes to fight their alphas and find mythical swords that have been lost for generations."

"I wouldn't say hero." Ryo shook his head.

"No, that's not your job. A hero that calls himself so isn't worth half a pint of stale grog." Stena held her lantern and her basket of herbs and mushrooms. "Ryo, will you escort me home?"

Ryo cleaned his dagger in the snow and put it back in his belt. "That's why we're here."


	19. Chapter 19

*****Oh yeah . . . I forgot it was this damn story that made me buy a tin whistle . . . *****

* * *

Chapter 19

Marik sat as close to the hearth as possible. Bakura rubbed his arms and shoulders to try and warm him. Men and women occupied every chair and stood in the tavern, some sat on top of the tables. Stena stood in the center, telling the story of Ryo slaying the wolf and enabling her to bring home the glowing mushrooms they called _wolf buttons_ (apparently, they only grew in wolf dens). Geurda kept her eyes on Ryo as her mother spoke, staring at him as if he were one of the twenty seven gods.

Marik watched Ryo massage his temples as she prattled to the locals. Bakura smirked, leaning over and whispering in Ryo's ear. "You lost the bet, so remember to write a love song to sing in the tavern before Marik's cloak is ready and we have to move on."

Ryo looked up at Bakura. "What do you mean I lost the bet?"

"You drew Glass and it's your sword. You lost the bet."

"That doesn't count."

"Yes it does. Doesn't it, Marik?"

Marik thought about showing mercy and siding with Ryo, but he remembered that he was going to lose a bet with Ryo later on and decided to enjoy his preemptive revenge. "Definitely counts. Make it a real sappy one, Ryo. You know Bakura is secretly a push-over for a good romance."

"Only the sordid types," Bakura argued in his defense.

"I hate you both," Ryo whispered, rubbing his temples harder.

Geurda and three other boys ranging from eight to eleven, ran up to Ryo. When Ryo noticed their presence, he lifted his head and looked at them. "Yes?"

"Will you draw it?" Geurda asked.

Ryo looked at them, his expression lost.

"Glass. We want to see it."

Ryo nodded with the same begrudging acceptance that he always gave the crew when they called him the Albatross. He stood, holding the handle. "Step back."

The children grinned and scurried back several steps. All the noises in the room evaporated the moment they saw Ryo stand. He looked at them a moment, as if just realizing he had an audience. He gave them a tired smile and pulled the blade from its sheath.

A flash made Marik blink, when he eyes focused again he noticed the transparent sword almost glowing with firelight from the hearth. The crowd gasped in awe. The children squealed. Ryo demonstrated a few slashes to build up their delight and it showed on the face of each spectator. He covered the blade in leather once again and sat down.

The tavern master growled a note from the back of his throat. The sound grew until it was a melody and everyone sang of the Wielders of Glass – three before Ryo – they added Ryo's story in a fourth verse, keeping every detail; the tears he shed for the beast, how he skinned the dire alpha himself, and his quest to save his male lover. Marik blinked as his listened to the last bit, realizing he never heard that sort of relationship in a song before, not spoken in simple, overt, language. Although chills still tickled the back of his spine, and Marik still hated the North, he found himself loving its people at that moment. They accepted the reality of things and didn't try to dumb down the language to make it seem like Ryo was after another golden-haired princess – though his lover did have quite the mane of golden hair.

When the song was over and the tavern mistress busied herself setting out, small, ornate horns for everyone to drink mead, Marik sighed. "I suppose that will do, Ryo."

"What will do?"

"The song they sang. You wrote it, in a way, with your actions, and they sang it for you."

Ryo smiled. "So that was sappy enough for you?"

"What can I say? I'm getting too lenient in my older years."

Bakura crossed his arms over his chest. "You never let me get off a bet that easily."

"You've never wielded a magical sword."

"That's not what you've been saying in the evenings."

"Innuendo aside, you've never wielded a magical sword."

Bakura leaned forward, pouting. "You just took all the fun out of that argument by making it literal."

"Yes, but I won. That's more important than having fun."

Bakura grinned and sat back. "My prince, I must disagree with you."

The tavern mistress set horns down at their table. Marik examined his. The ones they drank from at breakfast were large and plain, but the horn in front of Marik was only as thick as two fingers with runes carved directly into the ivory. In front of Ryo she place a large, twisted horn, gleaming and black.

Ryo ran his hand down the curve. "A drake?"

She nodded, holding up a bottle. "This is special. It's summer mead, fermented with cherries. It kicks."

Ryo smiled. "Thank you." He took the bottle and poured it for them; it splashed into their horns redder than blood.

"Little brat," Bakura mumbled, flicking his fingers against Ryo's larger drinking horn.

Ryo grinned. "Hero perk."

Marik sipped the drink. It tasted like a mild cherry wine that tingled on one's tongue. He closed his eyes; it felt like sunlight poured into his stomach.

Bakura laughed, his voice rustic and playful. "One sip and you're already blushing."

Marik blinked open his eyes as if waking up. "Have you tried it?"

Bakura reached over and touched Marik's cheek. Marik repressed his urge to lean into the touch; instead, he closed his eyes again. Bakura spoke, "Marik, are you already drunk?"

"Yes."

"You just took one sip!"

"I know."

Bakura pulled his hand away. Marik opened his eyes again and watched Bakura taste the drink, looking a little dreamy afterward. They both turned to Ryo at the same time. He had his head tilted back as he chugged the drink like it was any other. He sighed and set the horn down. "This stuff is horror show." He noticed Bakura's and Marik's stares. "What?"

"You sure you should drink it so fast?" Bakura asked.

"You both sound like Kek the night he and I shared a bottle of Northern mead. That brew was gold, it tasted more of honey than wine, also very horror show."

Marik took another sip and it was like chimes played a joyful chorus in the back of his mind. "On second thought, let him drink his fill. Wouldn't it be nice for him to be drunk with us for a night?"

"True." Bakura nodded after a second drink. "It is rare that we get the honor of seeing you good and properly trashed, Ryo. Entertain us tonight."

"I suppose it's the night for it." Ryo finished his long, sleek drake's horn. "Not every day one becomes an official hero with a song and an enchanted sword."

* * *

Bakura had half his horn drank and he was proud of himself for it. Ryo drained his second drinking horn and the plump, innkeeper's wife dropped two bottles of the drink on the table. "Here, child, I can't keep up with you and the other patrons. Even you shouldn't be able to stay awake for another bottle after these two, but be careful not to let those two have anymore. It's rude to vomit summer mead – too fine a drink."

Ryo stood up and pecked her on the cheek. "Thank you."

She blushed and held her cheek like a young devotchka, and Bakura smiled as he watched. He smiled at everything, wondering if the mead was enchanted like Ryo's sword.

Ryo's drinking horn fit half a bottle of mead and he drank the first of the two bottles in the time it took Bakura and Marik to finish their first, ornate horns. "I can't remember." Bakura stared at the ceiling as if it might help him remember. "The last time I was this far gone."

"I want another." Marik slammed his horn in the table.

"No you don't." Ryo shook his head. Bakura saw the magic of the drink working on his younger brother. Ryo's cheeks glowed red like the wine and his green eyes betrayed him as something more than a Northern bastard. He was like his sword, ordinary when not in use, but legendary when serving his purpose, and Bakura figured that helping people was his brother's purpose – maybe it was all their purpose and Ryo was the only one stubborn enough to actually do it.

"I know, we're only supposed to have one." Marik pouted. "But I can't stand listening to good reason. It's offensive."

Bakura scraped his chair against the wooden floor, dragging it as close to Marik as he could manage. He grinned and leaned into Marik's ear, enjoying the way Marik shuddered at the tickle of Bakura's breath. "Another horn each would make us sick – but I bet if we shared one together we could manage."

Marik's eyes lit up and he turned to face Bakura, their noses brushed together. "You're right. We're better together, aren't we?"

"Always."

"Fine." Ryo stood and popped the cork of their last bottle. He filled Marik's horn not-quite full. "Share it and kill the last shred of sense shared between you both, but don't cry to me when you're too drunk to stand and _do not_ vomit no matter how sick this makes you."

Bakura pouted a bit. He and Marik often shared drinks, but usually from each other's lips. Pissed as he was, he knew better than to do so in a room full of people. Most were passed out at their tables or on the floor, but Ryo sat with them and his lover was countries away so Bakura restrained himself. After a sip, Marik raised the drink to Bakura's mouth and he barely wet his lips with the drink, knowing how strong it was.

In between drinks, Ryo played his tin whistle. He seemed content in his lonely corner, his fingers dancing up and down the instrument. The sound blended with the ambient noise of the tavern and the soothing combination made Bakura want to curl up on the floor with his cloak and his prince and fall asleep.

Ryo finished his song and they all finished the last of their drinks, laughing as they piled the empty horns and bottles in the center of the table. Ryo glanced behind himself. "Bugger the chair. It's too cumbersome." Ryo plopped down on the ground, turning his cloak into a makeshift nest so he could waddle himself in for another go at his tin-whistle.

"You're brilliant." Bakura dropped to the floor and mimicked him. Marik followed and Bakura made sure his cloak stayed bundled over his shoulders. They sat next to the hearth and the blaze plus the wine kept Bakura warm from his belly to his fingers and toes. Bakura caressed Marik's coral cheek with his finger. "You're quiet."

Marik pressed his lips together a few times. "My lips are numb."

Ryo stood up, swaying and holding his hands out for balance.

"Where are you going?" Bakura asked.

"To use the head." He walked away well enough, though certainly not in a straight line.

* * *

Ryo found the latrine outside the inn. Their rooms had chamber pots, but Ryo didn't trust his aim at the moment. He opened the door and wrinkled his nose, shutting the door instead of stepping inside. Ryo stumbled behind the outhouse and urinated against its back wall. Dark stains already marked the stone and clay from other men. Ryo looked up at the sky, each clear-white star reminded him of his sword. He stood and shivered in the night air, hesitant to go back because he wanted to stare at the sky. He found the Hunter chasing the Antelope and remembered his wedding night; wrapped up in Kek's arms in the crow's nest of _La Muerta_ , gazing at the stars, sharing a bottle of mead, sharing their bed afterward. Ryo grabbed at his vest, over his heart, as his head sunk away from the sky and he stumbled back to the warmth of the hearth.

He sat down, Marik laughing and staring in the gem pouch Bakura took from the wolves' den. He looked up when he noticed Ryo sitting back on the floor. "Do you believe this idiot?" He pulled a handful of gems from the pouch and let them tumble out of his palm. Each stone was a different size, shape, or cut, but all were the same purple color.

"Bakura, you only stole the amethysts?"

Bakura crossed his arms over his chest. "Like I said, I fancied the color."

"Marik's right, you really are a sappy romantic."

Marik handed the bag back to Bakura. "So, my thief, what were you going to do with all these gems?"

Bakura looked away. "Have something made for you."

"You're very unhealthy for my vanity."

"Not my concern. I just wanted you to be pleasant to look at for my own amusement."

Marik chuckled, leaning into Bakura's chest and closing his eyes.

Bakura shook his shoulder. "No, don't fall asleep on me. Let's go back up to our room."

Marik shook his head, nuzzling into Bakura harder. "Not standing. Comfy."

"Usually they have a drinking hall and everyone sleeps on the floor, but this is just a hamlet so they use the tavern." Ryo toyed with the pummel of Glass. "Bakura?"

"Hmm?" Bakura stared at Marik, petting his flaxen hair. Marik slipped to Bakura's lap and used it as a pillow.

"Am I wasting my time, trying to wake Kek?"

"I don't think so. You got to do something with your life and why not this? It's a good deal more fun than being on the road, I have to admit."

"We were suppose to go to the North together, he and I. I feel like I'm going to have to do this all over again because it doesn't count if he's not here."

"Become a hero all over again?"

"Yes."

* * *

Neither Bakura nor Marik made it to their room. Ryo played a few more songs on his tin whistle, soft, lonely songs, the kind that would give the sleeping patrons beautiful dreams. When his eyes couldn't focus on his instrument any longer, Ryo cleaned and stored it and used his rucksack as a pillow. The only light in the tavern was from the hearth, the innkeeper and his wife had disappeared hours before. On the floor, the scent of cedar and herbs smelled strong. Ryo slept the moment he closed his eyes.

In his dream, he knelt in front of the alpha's corpse, skinless, blood frozen and pale from ice crystals. The other wolves surrounded him – not to attack, they were paying their respects. The gray and white wolf stood closest to Ryo, the new alpha. Ryo held out his hand so the beast could sniff it. "Sire strong pups," Ryo whispered. "We can't have strong heroes unless you breed strong wolves."

The snap of a twig echoing in the cold air attracted Ryo's attention. He turned and, from the blackest parts of the shadows, stepped out Kek. Ryo jumped up from the snow, but couldn't step forward. He stared in shock at his lover, barefoot and wearing only a thin, white linen shift stiff from dried blood.

"Ry—" Kek took one step and crashed into the snow. His face crumpled, his hand snatched a fist of his wild hair.

The wolves scattered and Ryo lunged towards Kek, dropping beside him and pulling Kek into his chest. "What happened? Oh love, what did they do to you?"

"It's my fault," he whispered. "It's my fault and now he's dead."

"Who's dead?"

"The Father. He was the high priest. He was going to take your keepsake away from me so I bashed his skull in with my Trial goblet. I tried to run, but there were too many. I'm sorry. Ryo I'm sorry I didn't escape. I was going to find you."

Ryo grabbed Kek's face, wiping his cheeks dry before the tears could freeze on his skin. "I'm still going to find you. Don't fret."

Kek shook his head. "I've killed. I – I deserve this sleep and the nightmares. I'm going to let them have me."

"Then I'll go to sleep beside you!"

"No. No, Ryo, no."

"Why not? I've killed as well. Look, the corpse lies in the snow. I _skinned_ him, Kek. He was my equal and I stripped him."

"Oh Ryo." Kek sighed. "Only you would mourn a wolf."

"That wolf had more honor and more courage than the human you killed."

Kek splayed out his arms. "Look at me. I'm filthy with blood."

Ryo ripped the shift off of Kek's body, tossing it in a patch of brambles beside them. Kek trembled, but Ryo scooped handfuls of snow and rubbed the snow into Kek's body.

"That hurts."

"It'll cleanse you."

"This is just a dream."

"You know these are more than dreams. I'm cleansing your spirit."

Kek chuckled, but it was a forsaken sound. "Are you a priest now?"

"I'm a hero. A local hero, but one day they'll call me a champion. I don't like that they'll call me that, but it's what I've chose to become. You and I are already in one song, you know."

Kek grabbed Ryo's hand, shaking so hard his teeth chattered. "The crew sings about you behind your back." He smiled. "I didn't see you kill the wolf because that's when they forced me to take the Trial, but I heard the song they sang at the tavern."

Ryo stared at Kek's naked body, making sure he'd scrubbed all the blood away. Satisfied, Ryo wrapped his felted wool cloak over Kek's shoulders and held Kek's chin. "You promised me that you wouldn't have nightmares, remember?"

Kek stared at Ryo. "You told me that was a promise I couldn't keep."

"You still made it. Those vows on your back are wounds. Wounds they carved into you, but this . . ." Ryo picked up Kek's hand and matched their scars together. "This is the symbol of the pledge you made to me. With your heart and your soul's breath, will you break _that_?"

Kek shook his head no.

"Then you will _not_ let the nightmares take your mind. You _will_ dream, and dream of me, until the moment I find you."

Kek shook his head yes.

Ryo tilted forward, pressing their foreheads together and losing his fingers in Kek's hair. "It's going to be an interesting dream, right? I have Glass, and Bakura says I have one more big adventure before we find you. It's going to be horror show to watch. You'll be too enthralled to even think about nightmares."

Kek reached up, his trembling reduced to a shiver with the cloak around him. His fingers brushed against Ryo's lips. "And you'll stay with me every night?"

Ryo pushed Kek into the snow, his cloak protecting their bodies from the brunt of the cold. He pressed a single kiss into Kek's mouth before pulling away. "Come now, lovey, you know I'm even more adventurous at night."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Kek slipped his fingers through Ryo's shoulder length hair. Ryo looked like a star fallen to the earth, white and glowing and too beautiful for anyone to have a right to hold. Ryo sucked at Kek's collarbone and he groaned. Ryo's head peaked up. "Did you want to see it?"

"Hmm?" Kek purred the question. "I want to see you bare in the starlight."

Ryo smiled. "If you wish." He stood, unlacing his felted vest and the quilted one beneath it.

As Ryo undressed, Kek noticed the sword at his back. "Oh, you were talking about the sword."

Ryo looked up from his work of undressing, raising an eyebrow.

Kek pointed to the sword. "Yes, I want to see her."

Ryo skated his fingertips along his stomach. "No longer interested in seeing me bare?"

Kek sat up. "Clothed or bare, I'll never lose interest in seeing you."

Ryo winked. "Good answer." He pulled the sword from its scabbard, looking up at it's clear, gleaming blade. "This is Glass."

"That sword suits you."

"In the song they sang of the Wielders of Glass, and all the foes slain by her edge. Good stories, but I hope to draw little blood with this. I know a sword is meant to do a job and it's the wielder's decision if that blade cuts to protect and cuts to injure, but I'm a performer and to us swords are props to dazzle the audience without actually hurting anyone."

Ryo sheathed the blade and removed it from his shoulders. His gloves, boots, trousers, Ryo peeled away everything covering him until he stood dressed only in the ice-white light of stars. He looked down at Kek. "Is this what you wanted?"

Kek nodded, everything suffered the day before felt like a nightmare, and Ryo standing in front of him felt like the truth. "Come here."

Ryo settled to his knees, straddling Kek's left leg, but keeping enough distance to tease him. "Yes?"

Kek grabbed Ryo and pulled him close. He breathed in Ryo's hair. Ryo caressed his fingers up and down the carved vows on Kek's back. "Are you still upset?"

Kek shrugged.

"Then let's stay like this for awhile."

"I wish I could say it was an accident," Kek whispered. "That the moment caught me and I didn't really mean to crack open his skull, but I knew what I was doing, and I knew what would happen when the pewter hit bone. I was so angry, so fucking angry. He was going to let me keep your hair until he realized you were male. Then it was suddenly wrong, and that pissed me off, and I wanted to see him crumpled to the floor. It wasn't until I felt his blood cooling between my toes that I felt bad."

Ryo sighed, his warm breath tickled Kek's ear.

"I don't even think I'm sad he's dead. I'm just shocked that I did it."

Ryo started singing; he sang the end of his own song, the stanza describing his quest to be reunited with Kek.

Kek opened his mouth to ask Ryo if he could kiss him, pausing and smiling as he thought about how flustered his asking made Ryo. Instead, he gripped Ryo's jaw and pulled Ryo's lips into his own. It broke off the last note of Ryo's song, but Ryo didn't seem to mind as he whimpered against Kek's lips. Kek ran his fingers down Ryo's milk-smooth skin, breaking their kiss to taste his throat and shoulder. He leaned back against the snow and into Ryo's cloak. Ryo hovered over him, alternating between kissing Kek's mouth and throat. Kek wrapped his legs around Ryo's waist, cold from night air.

"Would you be more comfortable at the inn? My room has a nice hearth."

"I like it out here."

Ryo smiled and then kissed Kek again. "I think I fell asleep on the tavern floor so don't let me make any noise. I don't want to moan in my sleep and wake everyone up."

Kek grinned. "I sleep with dead men. No one will mind if I moan."

Ryo pushed inside him; they didn't need oil in a dream. Kek grunted at the feeling. He held Ryo's shoulders and hid his face in the curve of Ryo's neck and shoulder. In the dream Kek held Ryo as tight as his physical body held Ryo's braid in the waking world – they never did manage to take it from him, even unconscious he clutched in hard between his fingers.

* * *

Bakura shook his stubborn brother, who curled in his cloak on the floor like a babe in a bassinet. "I don't care how much you drank last night, wake up."

Ryo's green glazzies fought open, unfocused and half dreaming. "I wanna . . . sleep more, Bakura."

"Do it in your bed."

Ryo glanced around, the night before coming back to him in degrees. "That mead was some horror show stuff."

"You're telling me. I'm still drunk."

Ryo nodded in agreement. "Then why can't we sleep on the floor a little longer?"

"I'm not carrying you like I did Marik. Go to your room."

Ryo held up an arm and Bakura helped Ryo to his feet. He teetered a moment and used the table to steady his body. "Gods, I'm still pissed to the winds."

"Can you make it to your room?"

Ryo grinned, scratching his disheveled hair. Bakura smirked, realizing that their hair was the same length. They both stumbled to their own rooms. Bakura slid into his bed. Marik lay at a diagonal, managing to cover the entire bed by himself. Bakura nudged Marik over as much as he could before pulling the furs and wools around them. The fire snapped in the hearth. Sweat tickled behind Bakura's neck, but he still held Marik tight against his chest, making sure his lover felt warm.

Marik cooed and curled his body closer. They slept till late afternoon. As they waited for Marik's cloak they went with the men, and a few women, on hunting expeditions. Ryo contributed by playing his tin whistle. Marik contributed by sharing Eastern stories with the hunters. Bakura contributed by actually hunting. His collection of quail, rabbit, and two large caribou earned him a title change from _that Westerner_ to _that lad that can track and shoot like one of us._

By the third day the tanner brought Marik's cloak to the tavern. The fur hung from his hands to the floor like a strip of night sky spilling to the ground. The clasp sparkled with several of the amethysts Bakura stole from the den. Marik's eyes grew wide and round as the sable fur slipped over his shoulders. His eyes betrayed the gratitude he'd never speak as he looked at Ryo and then Bakura.

Bakura nodded. "It fits well."

"You could pass as one of the gods. Your sword is Eastern-made, but they look horror show together."

They resupplied their wagon and prepared to leave. The innkeeper gifted them with one of the shaggy ponies they'd ridden to the forest. The coats of their oxen had grown thick and heavy. Ryo rubbed their faces with his hands. "See?" he challenged the innkeeper. "They may live longer than you except."

"It may be so," he confessed.

Geurda ran and wrapped her arms around Ryo's leg. He knelt down so he could hug the child. She held up an iris. "Is this the color of his eyes?"

Ryo smiled and nodded. "Yes, that is the color of his eyes."

She handed the flower to Ryo. "Hold this, until you can see his eyes open."

Ryo kissed the crown of her head. "I will look at this every day until that happens."

She ran away and Ryo tucked the stem of the flower into his leather satchel he kept around his waist to hold his tin whistle. He climbed into the wagon and they left the hamlet behind them. They traveled for weeks, climbing higher into the mountains and relying on the map Isis drew for Ryo to keep them alive. They hit a long stretch without proper cities or even hamlets to resupply and relied on Bakura's hunting skills and Ryo's craft at using roots and herbs to season and cook the meat.

Ryo hung the iris in their wagon, it dried and withered, but maintained the proper color. Every morning when Ryo woke up, he looked at the flower over his hammock and smiled.

* * *

Bakura clenched his teeth as Marik tore him in twain. A lantern lit up the canvas tent around them and cast their shadows against the material. He came, stabs of light flashed behind his shut glazzies from the hard climax. He collapsed against their sleeping furs, catching his breath as Marik finished inside him. They lay side by side, warm from the tent, and their furs, and the heat of their bodies. "You've been making up for lost time," Bakura whispered, a soft chuckle slipped past his lips.

"I figured I owe you for those weeks you took charge."

"I think I've been repaid." Bakura nudged Marik's ribs with his elbow.

Marik grabbed Bakura's face, kissing him hard and careless. "I . . ." he paused, struggling to express himself. His glazzies darted over Bakura's face as he thought about his words. "This is nice, you know? I mean, the traveling is hard, but not so bad now that I don't feel like my entrails are freezing. At least now when we hit a town we get to rest. Not work."

Bakura smiled, trailing his fingers down Marik's long, golden ponytail. His smile shifted into a smirk. "What's a matter? Don't like working?"

Marik lay his cheek against Bakura's chest, tracing his finger along Bakura's navel. "I don't like pretending, and our former jobs involved a lot of pretending. I'm kinda sick of eating rabbit and quail eggs, and digging our wagon out of ruts in the path, and sometimes I'm still cold, but at least this is real and not us on a stage built for society."

"Ryo's giving up the stage. Did you know that?"

"No," Marik answered. "What's he going to do instead? We're rich enough to be princes, but I've lived that life. Very boring and worse than prostitution."

"He says he'll wander and play, but I don't think he's capable of just that. That sword suits him too well."

Marik chuckled. "Guess he'll dance in glass shoes after all."

"What?"

"Never mind. So are we still going to open up our own theater?"

"That was the original plan, wasn't it?" Bakura raised an eyebrow.

"Frankly," Marik sighed. "I prefer pirating to acting."

Bakura snorted. "You mean navigating. Not much pirating happened while we were searching for gold, and you haven't a single callous from rigging sails or hauling freight."

Marik crossed his arms over his chest. "Very well, I meant navigating. Why should I do manual labor? That's what you're here for."

Bakura rolled his silver glazzies. "But sixteen months was longer than I care to be on a ship."

"On that we both agree, but shorter trips – weeks or perhaps a few months – that could work. The adventure of travel, but closer to the conveniences of bathhouses and pubs."

"What are you scheming, my prince?"

Marik shrugged. "Nothing. I was just thinking out loud."

Bakura snorted again, shifting out from under the bed furs. Marik grabbed his bicep to stop him. "Where are you going?"

"To the river, lovey. You really worked me over."

Marik pressed his forehead against Bakura's arm. "Clean up in the morning. You'll let all the heat out of the tent if you leave."

Bakura kissed the crown of Marik's head and then pulled away. "I'll build the fire up before I come back inside." Bakura wrapped his shoulders in his felted cloak and slipped outside. In front of their tent a large fire burned and on the other side sat Ryo's tent. No lantern light flickered behind the hide of Ryo's tent and Bakura guessed he was sleeping, or rather visiting his own lover.

Bakura had to break the ice from surface of the river with a rock before giving himself a quick wipe down. The terry cloth in his hand burned his skin from cold. He dried himself and relieved himself against the trunk of a cedar tree before tip-toeing back to his tent, naked save his boots and cloak. Before he reached the campsite, Bakura noticed a shadow fussing with the rack he'd set up to hang his hunting-game. He crept behind a figure wrapped in a rag posing as a cloak. The would be thief didn't hear or see Bakura, focused on trying to free a hare from the rack and fumbling in the cold.

Bakura dropped his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Oi, enough of that."

The scrawny thing snarled, trying to pull the rabbit from the wrack and almost knocking everything over. Bakura steadied the rack with one hand, and kept hold of the thief with the other hand. They struggled, Bakura too strong for the boy to escape. The hood fell from the thief's head and Bakura blinked at the rust-colored knots of the girl's hair. "Half a moment, you're not a malchick."

"Let go!" She growled, struggling to free herself, but still refusing to release the hare.

"You're the slave." Bakura went on holding her in place with little effort on his part.

"I'm not going back!"

Marik ran out to meet them, a quilted tunic and slacks as well as his wolf's fur. "Marik, hold this girl so I can get decent. Try to calm her down."

Marik stared at Bakura as if he were barmy. "You can't get decent, but I suppose you want to be dressed. As for calming her down, I'm not a wet nurse, Bakura."

Bakura gave her a light thump on the side of her head, like he would Ryo. "Girl, stop creeching and thrashing about and we'll cook that rabbit for you to eat. Fair?"

She snarled at him again, juniper-green glazzies glaring distrustful at Bakura.

"She's quite feral." Marik wrinkled his nose.

Ryo walked up behind them, flinging his cloak around the girl's shoulders. "Nine hells, Bakura, why are you out here naked in the middle of the night?"

"I had to use the head," Bakura defended. "Whatever. Hold her; don't let her run away."

"She's not our prisoner, Bakura."

"Ryo, if you let her sneak back into the woods the slavers will drag her back to the mines. Keep her here or let her go, either way I'm freezing my yarbles off and want trousers." Bakura marched back towards his tent.

* * *

The girl gnashed her teeth as Ryo held her. Perhaps fourteen years old but starved and exhausted, she posed no threat and couldn't free herself from Ryo's grip. "What's your name, love?" Ryo spoke as soothing as he could.

She clenched her teeth hard and grunted.

"I'm Ryo, the malchick behind you is Marik, and that incompetent rogue who had you earlier is my brother, Bakura. What about you? What did the gods whisper into your mother's ear the day she bore you?"

She dropped her shoulders and released the rabbit. "Frelsa."

"Sit by the fire, Frelsa. You look cold and I have something better for you to eat than that raw carcass."

The girl collapsed near the fire and curled her body up in a ball. "Are you going to sell me back?"

"I'm going to make some tea and get a meal into you before the gods notice the state you're in and try to take you away," Ryo said as he boiled water in the fire and heated up the leftovers from their supper.

The girl glared at Ryo. "Why are you being nice? Are you going to keep me for yourselves and use me?" She wrapped the rags tighter around her emaciated frame.

Marik laughed, a bitter sound. She jerked in his direction and glared at him. He ignored her look and gestured to her scrawny legs. "What on earth would we use you for? The oxen pull the wagon, the pony carries extra supplies, Ryo cooks, and I already own one thief – a better one at stealing than you."

"Own me, do you?" Bakura popped his head from the tent.

"Took you a long time to dress."

"Figured she'd calm down quicker with me out of sight."

"Ignore them," Ryo insisted. "They're jesters without motley. Here, look at this." Ryo knelt beside her, showing her the scar on his hand. He traced his fingers against his palm, smiling at the white-on-white slash raising above his skin. "My love is sleeping, cursed by Eastern sorcery. I'm on a quest to rescue him. My brother and his beloved are helping me."

She blinked at the scar on Ryo's hand, then at Marik and Bakura quarreling with each other and ignoring her and Ryo altogether. "Oh," she whispered when she realized that her greatest fear was unwarranted. She looked back at Ryo. "I'm sorry."

"Half a moment." Ryo ran to his tent. After a minute, he returned with a small, glass jar in his hands. A chunk of comb sat surrounded by dark amber honey. Ryo placed the jar in her hands. "Here, use this for your tea and bread. Eat the comb if you want."

Frelsa shook her head, dirt smeared across her face. "I haven't had honey since . . . I can't eat this, it's too valuable." She pushed the jar back at Ryo.

"It's just something Bakura found. He's good at collecting it." Ryo smiled, the wind picking up the longer strips of hair in front of his face and making the tree branches shiver against the moonlight. "Honestly, I've been staring at the color instead of eating it."

Marik jumped out of his conversation with Bakura to snap at Ryo. "You two and your odd, little fixations – magpies both of you – this idiot with his jewels, and you with that damn flower and the honey."

Bakura grinned, fingering the gold clasp on Marik's cloak. "Tell me you don't enjoy it. Go ahead and lie to me, my prince."

Frelsa laughed at them. A quick, melodic, girl's laughter, but it broke into a sharp, cutting sob and she covered her eyes with her arm to try and hide her tears. The sound of it hushed Marik and Bakura and they turned to stare with slack mouths.

"Get it out." Ryo nodded. "Hurts to laugh, doesn't it? Hurts to feel safe for a moment after a gale. Better to cry – easier."

She nodded, drying her face against Ryo's gray-blue felted cloak.

Ryo poured tea into his tin cup and gave her the last of their stew and bread. "Here. Eat this, but not too quickly. You'll get sick."

The girl tried to pace herself, hands shaking as she used the thick, brown, bread crust to spoon stew into her mouth. She saved the center of the bread to soak into the honey, coating her hands dark and golden and licking them clean again while forgetting her tears. Ryo watched her quietly, smiling if she caught his eye. Marik and Bakura sat across from them, sharing a game of solitaire to have something to occupy themselves with.

As she chewed the last of the honey from the wax comb, Ryo asked, "what's your story, Frelsa?"

Her eyes grew round, and her dry, cracked lips fell into a frown. She dug her toe into the pine needles resting on the ground, her feet covered in rags tied with frayed rope instead of shoes.

Ryo shook his head. "Don't worry. You're safe here. If anyone comes looking for you we have swords and daggers."

"There's too many of them."

"Not for us."

She glanced across the daggers of yellow and orange flames to where Marik and Bakura sat as if to question if that were true.

"I promise," Ryo said.

She stared into the fire. "The mine used to belong to a independent town, but the brigands overtook it and turned the villagers into slaves. They died. All of them died. Shafts collapsed and there was fever and the slavers would beat them without treating the wounds and they'd take to infection. That's when the raids started. I was ten when they kidnapped me. I remember searching for mistletoe in the woods to decorate your doorway for Yule and they put a sack over my head and tied me. I worked, the older women looked after me, cut my hair short and dressed me like a boy to keep me safe. It's better for the boys." Frelsa set her wooden bowl onto the ground and shrunk into Ryo's cloak. She spoke in a quiet tone, much calmer than when she wept. "But Vándr caught me peeing and he dragged me to his cottage. I was scared, I didn't want to go. If you get a baby in you they make you work until it bleeds out, and if that doesn't work they make you have it in the mine and both end up dying." She shuddered. "I saw a pickaxe near his front door. He'd tossed it there and left it, a long time ago by the rust gathered on it. I grabbed it and caught him in the eye – a lucky strike – and then I ran because I knew when they found his corpse I was dead."

Ryo looked at his brother. "Bakura, what do you remember from Godsi's story?"

"Her hair, mostly. I wasn't paying much attention, but I do remember them talking about us smuggling food to them."

Ryo nodded. "Yes. That's exactly what you and Marik will do."

Bakura glared at his brother over the fire. "And what, pray tell, do you think you'll be doing?"

Ryo matched his brother's gaze. "I'm going to see if they want the services of a bard."

"No. No you're not, Ryo. She said smuggle supplies, not go and get yourself killed."

"He's right," Frelsa pleaded.

Ryo ignored her. "How are you going to smuggle the supplies to them, Bakura? You need a diversion."

"Then I'll go!" Frelsa stood up, her hands balled into fists. "Those bastards steal children to die in mines. If you're going to help free them, then I'll turn myself in as a distraction."

"You can help me, but you're not going alone."

"How are we to get our hands on these said supplies?" Marik argued. "We have the polly to buy them, but wouldn't that attract attention? Is there even a town to purchase what we need? Ryo, this plan won't work."

Frelsa shook her head. "What they really need, more than food, is the key to their shackles. The children and women don't wear them because they're too heavy, but the men do. Picks and chisels would make fine weapons, but they can't fight chained."

"Who has the key?"

"Lykill. He's tall, and weighs at least seventeen stones, and has a long, auburn beard."

"So if we smuggled food to your companions for a couple of days to build their strength, and then got that key to them – how easy do you think it'd be to take back the town?" Ryo asked.

"Skulls are softer than rocks."

"Fair enough. I have a plan."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

A trading post served as the only lifeline between the mining town and the next larger village. It was enough to get the supplies they needed. Marik and Bakura, acting as a pair of wayward adventurers, loaded their wagon with flour, salt, onions, citrus, and kale, the ingredients they'd need to feed an entire encampment for three days. Frelsa knew the schedules of the guards, allowing them to plan when and where to drop their sacks of produce, bread, and dried caribou (that Bakura hunted and smoked). They hid from the slaves as well as the slavers to prevent betrayal, making the food appear as if by magic to the slaves, and during the day when they hid in the woods, the party of four could hear the slaves singing of god-gifts and miracles.

On the third evening, the slaves tucked themselves away in the cold, dirt-floored, lean-to shanties that served as their shelters, and the bulk of brigand guards retired to the town proper where they enjoyed steins of ale and beds and fires to keep themselves warm. Ryo walked through the alleys and narrow passages between buildings, Frelsa in step behind him. She continued to wear his cloak. The flesh puckered on the bare patches of Ryo's skin between his vest and gloves. Frost covered the lichen growing up the stone walls and the wind blew against their faces, cold and sharp as daggers. Shouts and slurred lyrics to drinking songs echoed from the public house, Ryo hoped most of them were schlogged.

"Remember," he spoke in a stern voice to Frelsa, as if she were a crewman aboard _La Muerta._ "You stay out of sight until the fighting begins."

"Unless you're in trouble," she argued.

"The whole point of this is for me to get into trouble, but not until I'm ready for it. Do as you're told."

"But what if –"

"Then you run and get my brother and Marik. Do nothing on your own."

"I've bled for over a year now. Who are you to tell me what to do? I'm grown."

Ryo looked at her and smiled. "Who am I to tell you what to do? No one, but if you deviate from the plan you'll put my life in danger. I may not be able to ever save him, my pirate captain, but I'd like a fair chance to try, so please don't get me killed by jumping into the fight too soon."

Frelsa dropped her eyes, staring at the pebbles in the road. They went to the old, abandoned temple once used to lay offerings at the gods' various altars but currently used as a latrine since the brigands overtook the village. Ryo climbed to the bell loft, leaving Frelsa to hide in the shadows behind the temple. He rang the bell, the vibrations shaking his hand as the deep, lonely peal echoed across the town. Ryo jumped out the tower's window and landed on the roof of the temple. He ran along the cobble stone roof, losing his footing twice, but he caught his balance both times. A Mimosa grew beside the temple and Ryo used it as a ladder to get back to the ground and find Frelsa. He took her hand and led her a safe distance away from the temple – far enough to remain hidden, yet close enough for them to see and hear the men stampede into the temple to investigate the noise.

A flame-bearded giant stood outside, waiting for the others to investigate and report their findings. Ryo pressed his mouth near Frelsa's ear. "Is that Lykill?"

She nodded.

Ryo kept his glazzies on the man that towered over the other men by at a foot. After noting the location of a long, iron key hanging from Lykill's belt, Ryo plucked the tin whistle from its pouch and licked his lips. He played half a tune, enough to spook the brigands and draw their attention in his direction. He grabbed Frelsa and they ran to another hiding spot. He repeated the game, playing and hiding, until the brigands screamed at each other and attacked every shadow. They went to the edge of town, where an old grain shed stood empty save for the rats and cobwebs. Ryo climbed up to the roof, striking flint against the steal of his dagger until orange flames curled along the shingles of thatch. He set three patches ablaze before retreating. They had to move slower to avoid the drunk slavers searching for them, but remained calm as he stepped through the alleys and tall hedges near shops and houses.

They returned to the bell tower. This time Frelsa climbed the Mimosa tree with Ryo to stay concealed. Ryo continued up the roof and back to the bell tower. He rang the bell a second time, only three gongs, before he slipped out the window and pressed his back against the outer wall, waiting to see who investigated.

The gods blessed Ryo with Lykill, a torch in one hand and a mace with a silver-plated skull as a cap in the other hand. Ryo held his breath as he watched from the shadows. The torch-fire exposed Lykill's faint, blue glazzies, glazed with the telltale signs of too many horns of mead. Ryo thought of how easy it'd be – to slip behind him with a dagger and cut his throat. He wasn't a wolf; he wasn't a creature of honor; he was a slaver and a rapist that murdered his own children by working the mothers to death in the mines. With Ryo's dagger sharp and his sword enchanted, it'd be right, and proper, and sweet, to kill the bastard, but Ryo couldn't bare the thought of tainting Glass with the blood of a drunken sod that'd never see the blow. Open combat would ruin their plans, so Ryo kept himself concealed. Instead of a dagger to the throat, Ryo snuck behind Lykill and removed the key from his belt. He went out the window before Lykill realized anyone was in the room with him and waited for the slaver to descended the tower stairs before he left himself.

Ryo lead Frelsa to the edge of town, towards the slave encampment. He curled her right hand around the iron key and her left hand against against the handle of his dagger. "It's time for you to go and free them and start this rebellion."

"Why aren't you coming with me?"

"They'll be checking on the slaves soon. I'm going to make sure you have enough time to unbind everyone's manacles before that happens."

"But –"

"I'm a performer, Frelsa. I know how to glamor them and stay alive. Your job is to be a hero and free your fellow slaves." He gestured to his cloak around her shoulders. "Keep my cloak and dagger. A key, a cloak, and a dagger, that's a good start for hero's garb."

"I can't let you die. You said you wanted a chance to rescue your lover."

"Oh, I don't intend to die." Ryo stepped back. "I will show you a secret, and then you need to go." He pulled Glass from the strap on his shoulders.

Frelsa's glazzies grew broad as she stared at the clear sword. "That . . . sword."

Ryo nodded. "Glass." He sheathed it. "So stop mothering me, Bakura does it enough as it is. Go and finish your part of the quest while I finish my part."

She nodded, lips and jaw set in a tight, determined line, and ran into the black, tree-shadow. The wind still blew cold and strong. Ryo heard the men screaming about the fire and he walked into the center of the town, no longer hiding behind buildings or shade. He played _Wielders of Glass_. The brigands surrounded him, daggers and axes pointed at Ryo. He continued to play until Lykill slapped the instrument out of Ryo's hand. Ryo looked up at Lykill. "Does that mean I'm not getting a copper for the song?"

Lykill pressed the silver skull against Ryo's jawbone. "Was this all some fool's game you've been playing? Trying to get a riveted audience for your performance? What are you really at?"

"I'm telling a story. You've all become a part."

"Well now, I love a good story. Go on and tell it, minstrel."

Ryo nodded. "Once upon a time there was an actor that lived in a world that seemed ugly. No hearth to sleep beside, no cinders to keep him warm on lonely nights; instead, he slept in a wagon with his troupe."

Lykill pressed Ryo's jaw with the mace. "Funny."

"I suppose that's too early in the tale. How about this? There was a devotchka gathering mistletoe in the woods when a group of slavers discovered her and kidnapped her. She worked as a slave, and as she matured, the other women dressed her up like a malchick to safeguard her purity, and it worked until a lout named Vándr figured out her secret and tried to rape her."

"So you bedded her instead? Promising to kill the big, bad men for her?"

Ryo laughed. "Gods no. I'm on a quest to rescue my love. Wouldn't do to bed girls while on a quest of true love."

"Nobel, so you were going to kill us out of the kindness of your heart?"

"With a tin whistle? I don't think that plan would work."

"And is this also a flute?" Lykill reached for Glass.

"I would not do that," Ryo warned. "She's particular about who can touch her."

"Hah! You're rusted little stick won't even be worth stealing off your corpse." Lykill curled his fingers around the hilt to draw the blade, and screamed. He dropped his mace on the ground and used his free hand to pull himself away from Glass' hilt. The hand he used the grab the sword was bright red with frost burn. Ice crystals gathered at his wrist and the beginning of his arm. Lykill held the injured wrist, still screaming. His cohorts started, staring at Ryo as if he may be a demon.

The wind blew Ryo's growing hair in a blizzard of white strands. He pulled the sword free and showed the glittering edge to the group of brigands. "I could have cut your head off in the bell tower, but I decided you weren't worthy to touch Glass' edge with your rotten flesh. However, you are missing your iron key."

He saw the other men's eyes widen with Ryo's revelation. One malchick with a sandy, gray-streaked beard, knelt beside Lykill to check. "The camp!" He shouted and the men ran towards the slave encampment, ignoring Ryo, either more concerned with their slaves or afraid to go near the sword that destroyed their leader's hand before even drawn.

* * *

Bakura didn't have his brother's scruples. He knew the North enough to understand that it was better to die in battle than to be wounded or crippled and left alive, but the wankers out numbered them and axes had a better reach than daggers. Bakura slashed at eyes and wrist-tendons, leaving a trail of crippled, moaning men behind him. He noticed the frailer women, many with bruises and one with a swollen stomach, following him and dispatching the sods for him, and he didn't judge them for getting their vengeance; he thought it noble.

One of the blokes made the mistake of calling Marik an Eastern damsel with a sewing needle. Marik removed his wolf's cloak and killed his way to the man with the offending tongue. They still fought, Marik toying with him, slicing shallow cuts into skin. It wasn't enough for Marik to kill the sod, he wanted to humiliate the slaver. Bakura watched Marik work the malchick to his knees and then take his head. For all his talk of being wrong for adventures, Bakura thought Marik did well once he actually decided to participate.

Around them the slaves shouted and forced their way up the hill and towards the town. Most men and women fought; their pics clashed against the slavers' axes. Bakura saw Frelsa fighting with Ryo's dagger in one hand and a chisel in the other. Though young, she called out encouragement and tactics to the other slaves, and they listened to her. The slaves were unified under the single goal of freedom, while the brigands were disorganized after Ryo's stunt left them confused and leaderless. The slaves also had the advantage of three days of proper meals and the high moral they caused, whereas the brigands were drunk and slow to counter. Members of both groups died, but they reached the town with most of the slaves alive.

Bakura could hear music, a drinking song, and once he reached the town square he saw Ryo playing and corpses lying around him in a circle like a macabre fairy's ring. Bakura looked at the dead men, but only saw signs of Glass on the mangled hand of the leader. "So you managed not to kill anyone," Bakura said.

Ryo stopped playing. "No one wanted to fight me, so the miners ended up killing them all."

Bakura grunted. Marik stepped in front of him. "Hey Bakura, go fetch my cloak."

Bakura looked at him, the blood and battle-flush on his skin made him fierce and strangely desirable. Bakura couldn't stop staring. "Don't take orders, lovey."

Marik hugged himself. "Please, the sweat's freezing to my arms."

So rarely did Marik say please that Bakura found himself turning around and walking back down the hill until he found the boulder Marik used to abandoned his cloak before the fighting. By the time he returned, the other slaves sang and praised Ryo and Frelsa for getting the key and setting them free.

They commandeered the public house first, drinking beer to celebrate their freedom. After songs and beer, they went back outside, gathered up the cadavers, and burned their bodies in a single pyre. Except for Lykill . . . the now-freed slaves strung up their former boss' corpse at the front of the town with a sign labeling him as a slaver. With the morbid celebration over, everyone retired to the public house to sleep near a fire.

Marik, Bakura, and Ryo chose a large, two story house near the back of the town. "Biggest house in town, probably their leader's," Bakura said. "Let's avoid the master bedchamber, shall we?"

"As long as we're near a hearth," Marik answered.

* * *

They disappeared up the stairs and Ryo watched them go. He went to the kitchen, built up the hearth-fire, and started making bread. He wanted something to occupy his hands, and the soft flour and water yielding against his fingers as he formed dough soothed his need for busywork. "All that damn sneaking around and fighting has me wired when all I want to do is go to sleep. I wish beer relaxed me as it did others." Ryo laughed, sprinkling flour over a spongy ball of dough and kneading it against the wooden counter top. "Gods, it's not even weird to talk to you like this anymore. I'm used to it, though I wish I could hear you speak back to me. Bolshy yarbles, everything is backwards – magic swords, magic lovers, rescuing a village. This is what reality has become for me."

Ryo placed the loaf in a cast iron pot with a fitted lid. and hung the pot above the fire to bake the dough. Ryo cleaned his mess and set the extra flour and salt to the side, they'd take it with them. He went outside to the stable, checked their oxen and pony, and then went back inside to search for sleeping furs. He dug through a storage chest in the main room and found several fur hides and a dark green cloak. Ryo stood up and examined the green material. It smelled like fresh, unworn linen and Ryo slipped it over his shoulders, admiring his reflection in a looking glass. "I know what you're thinking," he spoke to a Kek he couldn't see or hear but knew watched him. "The green looks like the sea and my skin looks like foam." Ryo smiled. "I'm going to wear it, then. It will help me tempt you awake when I find you – to be dressed in a felted vest and covered in verdant green. My hair's a mess, though"

Ryo found a dagger and trimmed the longer strips in the front and fixed the damage caused from when he sliced off his braid. When he was finished, he blinked at his own reflection. "Whatever you're saying – stop. It would make me blush." Ryo turned away, retrieved the sleeping furs, and followed the starchy scent of bread back into the kitchen. He removed the pot and uncovered the bread to let it cool. Ryo spread out the furs near the fire and slept with his cloak pulled around him.

* * *

As soon as Ryo's eyelashes fluttered with the start of a dream, Kek knelt beside him and brushed his lips along the curve of Ryo's jaw.

Ryo sighed. "Thought I'd never fall asleep."

"Why are you on the kitchen floor?"

"The bread, well, the smell of bread, and the fire. Makes me relax. Beds make me think of you. It's nicer on the floor."

"I think I just saw a mouse scurry by."

"As long as he doesn't eat my bread or get into my flour then I'm okay. A mouse isn't as bad as the rats on _La Muerta_ and I've slept on that floor plenty of nights."

Kek toyed with Ryo's green cloak. "You do look fetching in this. It's darker than your eyes, but it brings out the jewel-tones in their color."

Ryo rolled on to his back. Kek sat straddled over his hips. Ryo poked Kek's stomach. "I told you not to say things that would make me blush."

Kek pushed his fingers into Ryo's hair. He bent forward and kissed Ryo, sighing and pulling away. "I can feel you, smell the bread on the counter, taste the salt on your lips, but it's still not the same, is it?"

"No, not quiet the same. It's still magic keeping us together, only magic."

"Ryo, find me. Even if it's just to feel your lips truly on me one last time as you say goodbye."

"Or good-morning."

"Ryo." Kek bent forward and kissed Ryo hard, clicking his teeth against Ryo's.

Ryo grabbed the back of Kek's hair and maintained the hard, almost painful kiss. When he pulled away, he used his thumb and pointer finger to grab Kek's chin. "We're almost through the mountain pass and in two or three weeks we'll be at the coast. It'll just take a boat and a quick sail to the exiled islands after that. I will see your eyes open. It will be like watching an iris bloom from the bud."

Kek nodded, he knew Ryo wouldn't hear any other story, and who knew? The North had transformed Ryo - white caterpillar to white moth. Kek stared down at him. Ryo's hair grew thick in the cold, like an animal's coat often will, and weeks of guiding oxen and using logs to lever the wagon out of ruts had put a few pounds of muscle on Ryo's chest and arms. A true unicorn in human form, Kek didn't think he could resist if Ryo demanded that Kek opened his eyes. Kek swallowed, a wanton heat pooling in the lower half of his body. He started tearing at Ryo's clothes, tracing his tongue on the curves of Ryo's muscles.

"Lovey," Ryo moaned.

"I need you right now," Kek spoke in a choking whisper.

"Then I'm yours."

Kek stripped them both bare, covering his own shoulders with the green cloak to use like a blanket.

Ryo rubbed Kek's shoulder through the pine green fabric. "Looks good on you, too."

Kek fastened the clasp loose behind Ryo's neck, locking them close together and cocooning them in green. He leaned close to Ryo's ear. "I bet it looks best on us both together."

Ryo grunted, wrapping his legs around Kek's waist. Kek pushed inside Ryo's body, feeling blanketed by Ryo's warmth. The crackling of the fire and the mixed smell of cedar smoke and fresh bread triggered a flash of light behind his eyelids. Kek gasped from the intensity of the light, and then his head swam as he saw things that hadn't happened, and perhaps never would happen.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

They sat in a long mead hall drinking hard apple cider and small horns of bright, garnet Summer Mead. Cuts of drake, crusted in rosemary and garlic, turned on a spit in the center of the mead hall. The lord of the hall sat at the head of the table, like Ryo, he drank Summer Mead out of a drake's horn instead the smaller, ivory horns. His skin glowed white in the firelight and his hair was a pale, pale, buttermilk. His bead twisted into a single braid, garnished with beads carved from drake's teeth. He sat at his throne, left arm bound in a leather sling, and he looked at Ryo. "Tell me the story. How did you kill the drake that even got the best of me?"

Ryo bowed his head, finished his drinks, and stood. "Hold this, lovey." He shrugged Glass off his shoulder and handed her to Kek.

Kek smiled as he took the sword, tracing the tarnished pummel and painted snowflakes decorating the sheath. A murmur rose from the spectators; they didn't understand how Kek could hold the blade without hurting his hands. He and Ryo exchanged knowing smiles, it was part of their act. Never before had Glass suffered the touch of two in at the same time and the change added to the tales they sung of Ryo's adventures. Glass wouldn't bite Kek, he and Ryo had mingled blood and spirit and the sword recognized them as one; however, Kek never drew the sword, never dreamed of using her. He simply enjoyed holding the blade, she was part of Ryo, closer to him than the braid of hair Kek still wore tied to his belt with dark blue, satin ribbon.

Ryo stood on the table, walking up and down the table's length, but avoiding the plates of fruit and nuts and roasted vegetables set for the guests. He chanted his tale in the way of the North. Each line spoken with hard, clear stresses, Ryo wove the words tighter than threads of felted wool. As he finished, the lord lifted his drake horn up high in a toast and everyone followed suit.

The vision (for Kek knew the beautiful moment was only a vision) snapped into a different one. They stood in a small kitchen nook in a cottage. A fire crackled in the hearth and cedar smoke mixed in the kitchen with the smell of fresh-baked bread. Kek leaned against the counter, grinning at Ryo. "Where are we going next?"

"I don't know. I want to stay her for a while." He winked at Kek. "You know – rest."

"Your resting always leaves me sweating and exhausted."

"Well, we could always visit Marik and my brother."

Kek seized Ryo in his arms, kissing his mouth. "In a few weeks. I think you should rest."

"Won't that exhaust you?"

"Oh, I very much hope so."

They fell, laughing, onto the rushes scattered across the floor, pulling the clothes off their bodies and pressing hard against each other.

* * *

As the second vision ended, Kek heard himself moaning and felt himself cumming. His eyes fluttered open and he saw the surprised expression on Ryo's face. Kek always held back until Ryo climaxed, but Ryo didn't look disappointed, he looked aroused. Kek's eyes darted across Ryo's face, he opened his mouth to tell Ryo about the vision, more vague and shadowy than his normal foretelling, but the sensation of them had been more intense - experienced as he had lived them instead of just seeing them.

Kek was afraid.

The possibility he'd just seen was more desire than soothsaying, and if he said anything out loud he could shatter the fragile chance, or build Ryo's hopes on an impossible future that would hurt too much when they couldn't have it.

Instead of speaking Kek thrust hard into Ryo. His lover called out as Kek repeated the action. His cock still hard enough to penetrate, Kek continued to push hard and fast into Ryo's body until Kek's erection returned to it's full rigidity. Usually he couldn't climax twice if he topped, but he knew if he kept his pace hard and fast he'd be able to keep going until Ryo finished.

"Wow. Wow. Wow!" Ryo shouted into the air. He reached behind his neck and undid the clasp of the cloak, tossing the fabric to the side, his whole body blushing a mild, champagne pink. He clawed at the furs below them and squeezed his pale legs around Kek's dark waist.

Kek didn't think he'd climax again, but as he moved inside of Ryo and stroked him, and Ryo screamed the name of his favorite goddess, Brigid, over and over again, he felt the tension build in his body. Ryo held his breath, body trembling in tight spasms around Kek's phallus, and came, pouring onto his white stomach, and Kek came with him. He collapsed beside Ryo and they both choked for breath as if suddenly breaking the surface of ocean waves after swimming for a long time.

"Kek?" Ryo gasped, looking at Kek for an explanation.

"I . . ." He shook his head. "Had a vision of you celebrating after slaying a drake."

"Were you with me?" Ryo asked, eyes glowing the brightest green Kek had ever seen.

"It was a vague, brief vision. Your hair was long again, but not as long as before,."

"I wish you'd seen us together." Ryo gave Kek a soft, melancholy chuckle. "For a moment there, I really hoped . . ."

Ryo's face fell in a heartbroken mess that Kek couldn't bear. "I might have been there. I . . . maybe I was."

The expression recovered as Ryo embraced Kek. "That makes one-hundred and two, right? I guess I'll keep going until you have one-hundred and three."

Technically there had been one-hundred and three visions, the kitchen scene separate from the mead hall, but Kek still feared his own hope too much to share it with Ryo.

* * *

Ryo didn't want to open his eyes. He kept them shut in defiance as he heard Marik and Bakura talking over him, Marik's voice first. "See? I don't know why we waste money on getting him rooms at the inns. He'd be happier to pay a half-copper and sleep in the dining halls near the hearth."

"He did that when we were kids, too."

What Bakura meant was that Ryo slept by the kitchen-hearth after their mother died. Ryo opened his eyes, wishing he had his iris, but the dried flower stayed in their wagon. "I forgot I did that until you just said it."

"You said the smells of bread and woodsmoke helped you sleep."

"They do."

Marik held up a slice of bread dressed in butter and marmalade. "This was suppose to be breakfast, right? Because we helped ourselves.

Ryo smiled, scratching his hair and pulling the green cloak back on his shoulders – he'd tore it off last night during his dream.

"Where'd you get that?" Bakura asked.

"Stole it out of a chest."

"And you fixed your hair, about time."

"You're right. It needed it."

"Careful." Marik winked. "You're starting to look the part."

"Of a half-asleep fool?" Ryo rolled the sleeping furs into bundles and fixing himself a slice of bread.

"Of an adventurer."

* * *

Frelsa stood outside when they prepared to leave. "Everyone else left for their own villages," she explained. "But I wanted to say goodbye."

"You're free now," Ryo said.

She shook her head in agreement. "I'll go home, for a while, but I often heard the overseers talk of another encampment like this one. I'm going to find it."

"No doubt you will, but after that?" Ryo winked at her. "Go back home and find a nice farm-boy to marry?"

She laughed. "Maybe a smith's apprentice. It'd be nice to have a man at home to sharpen my dagger when I stopped in from time to time." She reached into her satchel and withdrew a jar of honeycomb. "Here. Thanks for the cloak and dagger."

Ryo chuckled, taking the jar of honey from her hands. "I'll be listening in the taverns for your songs."

"I'll do the same for yours." She turned and walked away.

They ransacked the large, two-story house of anything useful that fit in their wagon and left the empty mining town behind. Ryo took a last look at the town. He saw Lykill's corpse swinging from thick hemp rope in the cold breeze beneath a blackjack tree. A corbie rested on each shoulder, plucking the tender eyes from each socket as an entire murder of crows began to gather thick on the blackjack's branches.

* * *

A week away from the liberated slave encampment and the snow fell hard and thick on the ground without relent. Day or night, the sky stayed dark sable with cloud clover, white sifting down on them in clumps instead of delicate flakes. Another week and the inevitable happened; one of the oxen stepped in a drift and snapped her leg. Ryo felt the wagon jerk when it happened and Bakura curse and the poor beast scream with pain. He drew Glass before he stepped out of the wagon and jumped into the calf-high snow.

"Ryo, what are you doing?" Marik asked, the hood of his black cloak up high around his face.

"You know what I'm doing, Marik."

"Let Bakura do it."

Ryo ignored him. Bakura was at the front, trying to free the poor beast from its yoke.

"Please move, Bakura."

"I can do it, Ryo."

"Kinder if I do it, quicker."

Bakura sighed, frustrated, but he stepped away, leading the other oxen with him. A swift kiss from Glass's blade and the deed was over, the ox on her side and hoarfrost covered her throat; the blood around the wound glittered like frozen rubies. Ryo skinned her, like he had the wolf, only this time it was the meat he needed, not the hide. They fashioned a quick lean-to to block enough snow to get a fire and smoke the meat. If the weather didn't let up then Bakura wouldn't be able to hunt and the oxen may be their last chance for food until they reached the next village. They packed all they could on the backs of the remaining ox and their pony and in their own rucksacks and continued on their way.

They alternated between walking and rest regardless of if it was day or night. Ryo didn't have time to dream. The heavy, wet snow made a fire hard to maintain and sleeping eight hours at a stretched would mean dying in their sleep so they walked and tried to keep themselves and their remaining two animals alive, praying to twenty-eight gods (the Eastern God and the other twenty-seven) that the snow let up.

It didn't, and Ryo put down the other ox two weeks later. Three days after that, as they finished descending the mountains, the snow changed to raindrops, just as heavy. The weather stayed cold, barely enough to keep the rain from freezing. Ryo felt each cold drop saturate his cloak and vests. "This is worse than the snow. I miss the snow."

"Nine hells, even I miss the snow, Ryo." Marik's boots splashed through the mess of mud and melting snow at their feet. "I don't even think I can feel the cold anymore. I'm too numb to it."

" _Don't_ say that," Bakura growled. "That's suppose to be the last thing men say before they freeze to death, and I won't have you dying on me when the map shows we're almost to a town."

Marik smirked. "So, what you're saying is that it'd be more convenient for you if I died _after_ we reached the next town?"

"Yes, lovely, about sixty years after."

"Damn, demanding servant. I suppose I really should live. I've seen what you Western boys will do to fetch a doomed lover. Next you fools would sail to the other world to fetch my soul from the ranks of the dead."

Bakura grinned. "Well, it would make a good story."

"I'd have no choice." Ryo shrugged. "I owe you both at this point."

"Bloody understatement of the year," Bakura teased.

Marik took Bakura's hand as they marched through the muck in the rain that dripped through the canopy or poured freely from the open sky as they walked past patches of woods and clearings. "The town's large, no? They should have a few more comforts than the villages we've seen so far."

"They'll have a proper drinking hall," Ryo answered. "If we're lucky they'll be celebrating the time of thaw and they'll be a feast."

"I could use a feast." Bakura patted his belly with his free hand. "Roasted goose and duck dressed with tart cranberries, poached pears, pickled eggs, roasted kale, and their hardest cider."

"And their weakest mead." Marik laughed. "And their hottest bath."

"As many kettles as you want, lovey." Bakura squeezed his hand. "After you're satisfied and dry, I'll swaddle you like a babe in the softest fur their trapper has for sale."

* * *

They joked like that for hours, eating the last of their smoked meat as they walked, too close to stop. They started laughing, dangerously giddy, almost drunk, and Bakura thought Marik was right. The cold didn't seem to reach them. He felt wet, and knew is should be cold, but he felt hot. Bakura wanted to toss the cloak on the ground, but knew the heat was a fever and his twenty-eight prayers turned to twenty-eight curses. So close and he'd be damned by all the gods if he'd let any of them fall when they were _miles_ away from warm, dry shelter, and food, and medicine, and everything they needed.

Marik collapsed.

Ryo and Bakura stopped and blinked at Marik's body for a moment, too shocked to accept what they saw. Bakura plunged his knees into the mud, scooping Marik into his arms and checking his heartbeat by pressing his lips against Marik's throat – as he often felt the life beat below the skin of Marik's throat during their most sacred and intimate moments together. He felt both a heartbeat at his lips and Marik's chest rising and falling with breath, but the spice-colored skin glowed with an angry, ruddy flush and a slight rasp burdened Marik's breath. Bakura knew they tempted the gods with each moment they remained in the cold and rain.

Ryo stole a dagger from Bakura's belt and cut the ropes securing their gear to the pony. He pulled their least damp hide from their packs and wrapped it around Marik. Bakura jumped on the horse without asking as he and Ryo struggled to get Marik's dead weight into Bakura's arms.

"Ride," Ryo demanded. "I'll meet you."

Bakura felt his eyes sting. "You better. I swear to the gods you better. We're not going to rescue Kek on your behalf – we'll steal both your bloody shares of treasure and hire an army to slaughter the entire North if you don't reach the next town by tomorrow."

Ryo nodded, his skin almost glowing from the sheen of rain coating it, but he didn't seem to have a fever, and of course he wouldn't get frostbite.

Bakura rode, pushing the horse too hard. The creature avoided the remaining snow drifts, and muddy sink holes as she sped across the dangerous pebbles and roots and branches littering the ground. She brought Bakura to the threshold of the city gates before collapsing to the ground. Bakura managed to tumble off the beast with Marik before their bodies tangled with the falling creature. He felt bad, for riding the creature to his death, but didn't have time to morn as he scooped Marik up into his arms and ran himself just as hard and dangerous into the city and to the first healer's cottage he saw. His vision blurred as he dropped to his knees near a large hearth. The last thing he saw was the old couple walking towards him, dressed in thick layers of felted wool and fur. He grunted, refusing to pass out until he rested Marik in the man's arms. "Cold," he muttered. He meant Marik, but felt himself shaking, as if all the cold of their travels caught up to Bakura at once. He thought it odd. Odd that the cold burned as fierce as flame and odd that while kneeling near the fire he felt colder than trudging in the near-frozen rain, but he couldn't ponder the phenomenon. He felt the woman, hair a fiery-gold and thick crow's feet etched along her glazzies, start to strip away his sodden wools before he fell unconscious in her arms.


	23. Chapter 23

*****Just FYI, tomorrow is the last chapter. And I wanted to say thanks to April-san for the reviews (and to everyone else who reviews and favs). *****

* * *

Chapter 23

Ryo knew they'd traveled too hard for too long when Marik and Bakura stopped complaining and started laughing, swinging hands and singing catches of song. Both men showed signs of cold and fever on their faces and Ryo realized that if something happened to either one of them, he'd never forgive himself. Neither Kek nor Isis mentioned Bakura or Marik getting hurt. Ryo knew Isis wouldn't allow Ryo to go on a quest that would put her younger brother in danger; however, he'd been doing everything he could to change the possible futures they saw, and the thought of paying for his lover with the health of his blood relations was too horrible for Ryo to think about. Nonetheless, his mind kept pulling the notion into his thoughts and Ryo almost cried out when he saw the city gates.

He ignored his sore, stiff legs and ran through the city, looking for the first healer's house. He heard a dry cough to his left, and glanced over to an old man leaning against the tavern wall, skin and hair as white as Ryo's.

"Sir." The old man coughed again.

Ryo wanted to find his brother and make sure Marik was all right, but some meddlesome characteristic in his nature refused to allow him to walk away from a crippled man sitting in the street. He walked up to him, hand going to his purse of pretty polly.

"Thirsty," the man croaked. "Traveled through the mountains . . . robbed."

Ryo handed the old man several gold coins. "Here, grandfather." If the man wasn't a drunk, and he didn't show any of the veins or blotches of one too often lost to drink, then the old man could live the rest of his life off the coin – including the hire of a servant to look after him.

He shook his head _no_. "If I could just have a drink to get my strength back."

Ryo sighed. He _needed_ to get to his brother, not help an old fool, but he handed the man his water bladder and walked into the tavern to buy a bottle of the more wholesome Brunch Mead for the old man. "I'm sorry," Ryo handed the bottle to the old man and slipped one of the gold coins into his vest pocket. "I really must go now."

"Can't drink alone, sit down, lad."

Ryo shook his head. "My friend's hurt. I must check on him. Do you know where the closest healer is?"

The man nodded and pointed just up the road and across the street from where Ryo stood. "Your brother and his prince are both at Sam's. He's the best in town, don't worry about either of them and sit and drink this with me."

Ryo opened his mouth to insist he go and then stopped. "I didn't say brother and I certainly didn't say prince."  
"Oh, you didn't? Ooops." The man laughed, pulling the cork from the bottle with his teeth and drinking without a glass.

"Who are you?" Ryo sat down. He knew better than to offend the man beside him.

"A traveler, like you." He handed Ryo the bottle.

Ryo took his usually swig and passed it back. "Will they really be okay?"

"Now that's how a man's s'pose to drink." The bone-white man nodded approval at the bottle. "I like you." He looked at the healer's cottage. "As they are now – they'll die. Too much cold and too much damp and too much marching. Pony already died."

"Want do you want? I know what you are, and I know your game. I'm willing to play it."

"Want to bargain for their lives, do you? Isn't that usually the last resort?"

Around them the town flowed and ebbed as mundane and busy as any other particular day. The rain stopped, sunlight reflecting in a dozen puddles along the streets. Ryo wondered if weather had been the beginning of the thaw season or a trap. He blinked at the muddy roads and stones buildings, not caring either way as long as he could save his brother by blood and his brother by marriage. "I asked what you wanted of me."

"What if I wanted a pretty little slave?"

"I'd require a boon – separate from saving Marik and Bakura."

"To finish your quest. To kiss your lover if only one last time as he asked of you."

Ryo nodded. The air still chilled him, his clothes still stuck wet to his body, but the sun felt good on his face.

"But if you belong to me you couldn't be with him, even if you woke him."

"You think I couldn't be with him? His God couldn't stop us – you can't stop us, either."

He gave Ryo a single grunt of laughter. "He lied to you. He saw more to that vision than he said."

Ryo pursed his lips into a dissatisfied knot. "I'll box his ears later if I need to, but for now you're the one I'm dealing with."

The old man clucked with his tongue and drank the bottle down to a quarter, handing the last to Ryo. "So rebellious to those gods you call out to in ecstasy at night."

"You should be flattered." Ryo finished the bottle, setting it on the ground between them. "Well? Is that your price? My life-long indentured servitude to you?"

The man laughed, wrinkles spreading across his face like the webbing of a great spider. He patted Ryo on the shoulder. "My price is the iris, the jar of honey, a song on your tin whistle, and three bottles of Summer Mead."

Ryo stared at him. "No tricks?"

He raised a white eyebrow at Ryo. "You know I can't promise _that_."

"Of course. It's what you are." Ryo nodded, removing his rucksack and retrieving the iris and jar of honey which he kept after they abandoned the wagon. He went back to the pub and purchased their three best-aged bottles of Summer Mead and opened the first one, taking a long swallow before passing to the old man.

He laughed. "You're going to get pissed to the Nine Hells if you drink all three of these with me."

"Then do I have your leave?"

"Of course not, I told you to drink with me."

"And to play." Ryo took the bottle to drink again and pulled out his tin whistle.

"And what song shall you play?" he asked.

Ryo thought as he drank more of the potent, sweet mead. He'd paced himself the first night. Now, with less food in his belly and taking quick drinks, Ryo felt the effects of the alcohol immediately. "Any request?"

"I've always been fond of _A Fairy Story._ "

"Yes, you would like that one because it doesn't end like you'd think it would." Ryo licked his lips and played the brief tune. When he finished he helped the old man drink the other two bottles of mead, playing another song between each round. When the four bottles sat empty between them, Ryo's head danced and spun.

The old man slipped a small bottle into Ryo's hand. "My tears. I shed them, from pride, on the day you were born."

"Wait, on the day I was - say that again?" Ryo asked but when he turned he sat alone, back pressed against the pub's wall. He looked at the ornate, glass bottle, green as his and the old man's glazzies. "Bolshy yarbles." The laughter slipping out of Ryo's mouth was soft. He stumbled to his feet, disposing of the four mead bottles and stumbling to the healer's. He forgot to knock, too drunk. Ryo pushed his way inside the stone house. Sage burned in two thuribles suspended on each side of the doorway. Ryo bumped into one and it swung, smoke covering Ryo's face and making him cough.

The sound brought the attention of a middle aged woman to the parlor. "Another half dead traveler?"

"I'm fine, actually." Ryo grinned. "Well, drunk. I'm drunk, but I don't have a fever. I have medicine, sort of, for Marik and Bakura."

"Oh get out of here. I don't have time to help you detox. There are _sick_ men here, and they need my attention."

"You can't help them. They'll die without this." Ryo showed her to green bottle as if it explained everything.

"If that's what you've been drinking, then I promise my herbal teas will heal them quicker."

Ryo frowned, knitting his eyebrows together. "Hey, I went through a lot – of mead – to get this for them. The least you can do is show me where they are so I can give it to them."

The woman looked Ryo up and down. "So you were traveling with them?"

"Our oxen died. We had to leave the wagon behind. Marik collapsed, so Bakura went ahead to try and get him here in time." Ryo gave the starry baboochka his saddest, I'm-innocent-and-how-could-you-possibly-resist-my-adorableness, look.

She scowled, apparently she could resist his adorableness without effort, but she did walk up to Ryo and take the bottle out of his hands. She sniffed it and dabbed her finger into the bottle, licking a drop from her fingertip. "This is saltwater."

"No, it's the tears of the god Stafkarl. I drank with him and he gave it to me to help my brother."

"Stafkarl. You'd trust a trickster and a beggar? He gave you salt water to swindle you out of a drink."

"Then what is it going to hurt to give it to them?"

"It will hurt them if the salt further dehydrates them and they die."

"There's a enough in the bottle for that." Ryo blinked at her. Stafkarl was a story-telling trickster deity who loved playing the part of the beggar to weasel liquor and stories from travelers. Sometimes his pranks were cruel. Perhaps the bottle only contained sea water. Ryo took the green bottle from the woman's hands. He wished Kek were with him. He'd know if the bottle was a trick or a miracle. The old beggar asked for Ryo's flower and honey-jar because they were connected to his story. _Had_ Kek been there he'd want Ryo's braid as well.

"But he didn't ask for Glass." Ryo looked up to the woman with hair a mixture of strawberries and sunlight. He felt his buzz beginning to fade. "If he wanted to swindle me, he would have asked for Glass. I don't think he could resist such a prize without a good reason."

The women waved her hand and walked down the hall. "You need to sober up and then go to the temple and pray for your friends."

Ryo marched passed her, to the back where he saw lantern light. When he entered the room he held his breath at the sight of his companions. Both of their faces burned bright red. Ryo couldn't discern if fever or frost burn caused the color. Even from across the room he could hear the thick rasp in their breathing. "You idiots would get pneumonia in the middle of a quest," Ryo spoke with affection.

He went to Marik first, Bakura would be angry otherwise, and poured half the bottle into Marik's mouth. Behind him, he could hear the woman complaining, and then a man's voice as well. He moved over to his brother's bed, and poured the remaining liquid into Bakura's mouth.

"What do you think you're doing?" The man scolded Ryo.

He looked up at the pair of healers. "I'm sorry, I could have expressed myself better if I hadn't drank so much, but he couldn't make it too easy for me, right?" Ryo shrugged. "I'm still tipsy, but the alcohol is starting to wear off."

"Tell me you didn't give them that awful salt water?"

"This sword looks useless, doesn't it? Like a beggar in the street." Ryo freed the blade, showing them the ice-like sword.

They stepped back, glazzies wide and awed.

"My name is Ryo, Born in the West, Forth Wielder of Glass, and these men are my travel companions." He housed Glass back in her sheath. "Thank you for keeping them alive long enough for me to save them."

Marik sat up and coughed. His skin returned to his regular garam marsala complexion. He looked around, his breathing deep and free of congestion. "Where am I?"

"Gods, it really healed them." The woman stepped back, a hand clutching her bosom above the heart.

Bakura sat up, also coughing. When the fit passed as his skin changed back to the color of cinnamon sticks, Bakura leapt from his cot to Marik's. "Thanks the gods." He kissed Marik, kiss after kiss, after kiss. "How do you feel? Are you cold? Do you want food?" After each question Bakura kissed him again.

Bakura's mouth muffled the tiny, shocked moans Marik made with each kiss. "Hells, Bakura, what's gotten into you?"

The older couple averted their eyes at the display.

Ryo sighed. "Bakura, he'll be fine. Be decent when we're around other people."

Marik scrambled to his feet. "Is this a healer's? Guess that's why Bakura's gone barmy and I can't remember making it to town."

"How do you feel?" the man asked.

Marik shrugged. "Better than I have since we took to the mountains. Thank you for your healing talents." He gave them a small bow, paid them coin from his purse, and found his wolf's fur cloak. "Come on Bakura, if you're going to fawn over me, let's find a room with a bath so you can do it properly."

They walked out of the healers as if nothing happened. Ryo clenched his hands into fists and chased after them. "You wankers better wait for me! I have a story to tell you!"

* * *

Marik lay in a proper bed for the first time since they liberated the slave encampment. The firelight softened the edges to the room and the lines starting to creep into Bakura's face, making him look in his twenties again. They'd bathed and eaten and had their clothes laundered and then slept the rest of the day.

Bakura blinked his eyes open, staring at Marik and smiling. He hadn't quite recovered from his overly affectionate mania and his silver eyes gazed at Marik in a way that shortened Marik's breath. "He said we were both done for."

Bakura nodded his head.

"And he wasn't even sure if that potion, of sorts, would work."

"Good thing my family is incredibly lucky when it comes to gambling."

"What? You're horrible! You lose all our bets."

"But I've won you." Bakura pulled him close.

Their noses brushed together and Marik couldn't help but leaning in closer and resting his face against Bakura's shoulder. "It's still dark, but it's technically morning."

Bakura grunted in agreement.

"That means it was ten years ago today, wasn't it? That you _kidnapped_ me."

"It was the best thing the East had for a thief like me to steal."

"I should get an extravagant present for putting up with you all these years."

"Only if I get an even shinier one for putting up with you."

"I want a ship," Marik said.

Bakura laughed. "Did the fever addle your brain after all?"

"Well, we need one, don't we? I'm not swimming to the exiled islands."

"Let Ryo pay for a vessel with his share of the treasure."

Marik pulled away so he could scrawl his finger along Bakura's brown chest. "But I want it, so we can use it afterward."

"You really got the idea of sailing into your head, don't you?"

Marik grinned. "A small boat, something big enough for the two of us without needing a crew."

"You know, if it's just us, you might have to actually _work_."

Marik smacked Bakura's shoulder. "I helped dig the wagon out of the snow plenty of times with you and Ryo."

"Where are we sailing first?"

"South. I want to get as far, far, away from the cold as I can."

Bakura sighed, but his lips smiled nonetheless. "And what our we going to call our ship?"

Marik smiled, knowing he'd gotten his way again. "Ladrón."

Bakura snorted. "Sentimental, are we?"

"You have your bag of gems and I have this."

The next morning Bakura and Marik met Ryo for breakfast. "We'll need transportation to cross the seas and reach the exiled islands," Ryo said while eating.

"Yes, about that." Bakura looked at Marik.

"I bought a boat this morning." Marik grinned.

"With your own money?"

"Eh." Bakura shrugged. "We'll do something with it afterward."

"Plays would be boring after all we've been through."

Ryo snorted. "That notion I understand quite well."

"Yeah, maybe Marik will get better at adventure over time."

Marik shook his head. "I doubt it. You'll just get better at saving my ass."

"Just try to remember your sword next time, okay lovey?"

Ryo smiled at the two quarreling. He stood up. "Can I see her? Can we set off? I want to see Kek."

* * *

"What a stupid route. Remind me to yell at my sister when I see her again. True, the exiled islands are in the northern border of the Eastern lands, but to go through the mountains just to get to them. What a waste of time."

Ryo reached over his shoulder, brushing his pale fingertips against the pommel of Glass. "But Geurda would be an orphan, Frelsa would be a slave, and we'd still be actors. Besides, I like the sword."

"Well, as long as you're properly accessorized." Bakura snorted.

The wind pulled Ryo's hair away from his face, and cold spray kissed his cheeks. He held the map. "It's a good thing we have this. There's over a dozen islands and searching at random would be tedious work."

Marik shook his head, pulling the sable fur around his shoulders. From the stories Marik heard, the exiled islands rarely saw snow, but frost often hardened the ground and made life harder for the convicts exiled to the islands. "Most of the islands serve as penal colonies for the East. I've heard it's easy to spot the one the priests use because nothing grows on it. It's dead."

Ryo's fingers dug into the map. "I can't believe they put him in a place like that."

Bakura snatched Marik by the wrist and pulled him to his feet. "C'mon, lovey, time for your first lesson in rigging sails."

"What? No, I'm navigating."

"And I'm the gally cook," Ryo said, grinning at his brother.

"Marik, you wanted a ship without a crew. Well, here it is."

"Yes, but I thought I'd just steer while you did all the parts that involve getting blisters and callouses."

"Cute, that's cute, my prince. Grab some rope." Bakura walked away.

Marik sighed and shrugged. "I don't think I'm getting out of it this time."

Ryo nodded. "He's not sticking around and arguing with you, so I'd imagine you've actually lost this one."

* * *

 *****The ships are La Muerta and Ladrón - very lame ass jokes, I know, but I couldn't help myself.*****


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Ryo swallowed when he stepped off the ship and onto the dead, gray mud of the island. It was worse than he imagined, seeing everything black and dead and suffocating in fog. "Kek doesn't belong here. If I can't do anything else, I'll find a better place for him to rest."

Bakura placed a hand on Ryo's shoulder, but neither he nor Marik spoke out loud.

Ryo turned his head, noticed a small temple built from the black, dead wood of the island. "Guess that's our first place to look." Ryo marched towards the building, his hair shifting behind him.

Inside, candle light caused their shadows to jump and shiver against the walls. Another shadow walked towards them. The body of a man followed his silhouette. "What are you doing here?" the man demanded. He wore dark purple robes.

"You can speak?" Ryo asked, pulling Glass from her sheath.

"I'm a priest not a hunter. If you're bandits there's nothing here to steal."

Ryo laughed, hard and bitter, it hurt his chest. "You're the bandits. You bastards stole my lover from my arms and I'm hear to take him back."

The priest stared at Ryo, at his white hair, and then muttered something under his breath. Three other men appeared, these silent with faces hidden under the hoods of their cloaks. The priest looked at Ryo. "You know they can't die. Leave this place. Your lover will stay here until he repents and returns to God."

Ryo watched the three hunters' slow approach. Marik and Bakura had their weapons in hand. Bakura turned over his shoulder to glance at Ryo. "So, you think it's time we test this pesky immortality theory?"

"Yes."

They each attacked one of the hunters. Marik's and Bakura's foes slumped to the ground while Glass sunk between the third hunter's shoulder and neck. The robbed figure screamed, and when he fell to the ground, his body shattered into uncountable crystals of ice that scattered across the floor.

"Well, now you're just showing off," Bakura teased, looking at the mess at their feet.

"Bakura!" Marik pushed Bakura out of the way to block the attack of one of the two hunters they already dispatched. While Marik twisted his sword into the hunter's body, Ryo dispatched of the first hunter who'd also risen back to his feet. Again, the man Marik killed fell to the ground, while the man Ryo wounded shattered.

The priest fell to his knees, praying.

"We killed them the first time, right?" Bakura asked.

"Yeah," Marik answered. "Looks like that immortality story panned out – for the most part."

The would-be twice dead hunter stood up a second time, but Ryo already had Glass prepared to cut into him and send the frozen body shattering with the others. Ryo eyed the shards at his feet, they gleamed in the candlelight like snow or a pile of broken glass. "Kek said they sacrificed themselves to fire and rose again through the same fire. A shame for them that Glass is enchanted with ice and I'm the son of a Northern God."

Ryo looked at the priest still kneeling on the floor. "Are you ready? I wept for the wolf, but I won't shed a tear for you."

"I'm unarmed."

"So was Kek. Were you one of the priests that forced that poison into his mouth?"

"Killing me won't bring him back."

Ryo nodded. "You're right, otherwise you'd already be dead." He knelt beside the priest, holding the blade of glass close enough to threaten the priest but far away enough to prevent his skin from freezing. "Go back East. Tell your damn order that there will be no more hunters, and no more Trial, and if I ever hear of either existing in the world I will personally hunt down all involved and kill them. My name is Ryo. Do you understand?"

The priest snarled, grabbing for the sword and trying to wrench it from Ryo's hands. As soon as he touched the hilt, the priest screamed and snatched his hands back to his chest. His fingers curled in place, frozen and black with frost damage.

Ryo stood up, but kept his sword in his hand. "She doesn't like to be touched, but I guess you've realized that. You better hurry and run, before I decide to end your suffering."

The priest stood, his movement awkward without the use of his hands, and ran screaming from the temple.

"I wouldn't have suffered the fool to live." Marik snorted, sword in one hand and the other hand resting on his hip.

"I thought about it," Ryo confessed. He started turning the candles over. "I'll settle for destroying their temple and killing their hunters."

They exited the temple, blinking their eyes as the sun revealed, in stark detail, the naked, ruined corpse of the island. Marik gazed up at the sun. "I don't understand. The stories say the fog never lifts on this island."

"The dead trees will bloom for the first time in nine-hundred years." Bakura smirked.

Marik looked at him. "What?"

"Something your niece said, at the end of her story. I think Ryo's doing something that's changing the land."

"Once I would have said bolshy yarbles to that." Ryo sighed.

Behind them, smoke snaked above the temple. The soft gray ribbons thickened and grew dark and sooty as the first licks of flames pierced through the roof. Ryo ignored the fire behind him, walking forward, heading towards a path traveling up the mountains. "I'm here, Kek. I'll see you in a moment."

Two more priests attacked with machetes, but Glass didn't know fear and neither did Ryo. He blocked their attacks and then cut into their skin. Even a small cut frozen his enemies, and when he pierced their bodies they shattered like a champagne flutes.

He marched up the path, alters to the twenty-seven sat at regular intervals mixed in with older shrines dedicated to gods Ryo didn't know. This time half a dozen of the hunters tried to ambush them, leaping from behind stone pillars where the first heretics' bones rested on marble slabs. Marik and Bakura fought, buying time for Ryo to reach them all without being overwhelmed. When each hunter lay like snow at Ryo's feet, they paused of moment for Mark and Bakura to catch their breaths.

"For someone who's never killed, you're awfully good at it."

Ryo stared at the little diamonds of ice on the ground. "They're not really alive. Not like we are, but even if they were . . ."

"Bet their nasty blades are poisoned." Marik nudged one of the machete hilt's with the toe of his boot.

"I'm sure. They seem the types, so we best avoid getting cut," Bakura said.

Even as they stood there, they watched buds peaked from branches of the once dead trees and swelled into life. Plum trees lined the path, their purple blossoms perfuming the air around them. Grass grew out of the gray mud.

Ryo looked at the bright sky, squinting his glazzies against the light. "Kek had another vision, the last time I was able to spend time with him back in the mountains."

"Oh?" Bakura asked.

"I was at a feast, celebrating my victory over a drake."

Marik snorted. "Sounds likely."

"Stafkarl said he wasn't telling me everything."

"You think he was there?" Marik asked.

Ryo nodded.

Bakura smacked the side of his brother's head. "Then why are we chatting? Let's hurry up and climb this hill so we can find out once and for all."

"I'm terrified. I'm sure that's why Kek didn't explain the whole vision to me. He was terrified."

Bakura grabbed his free wrist and dragged him down the hill and back towards the ship.

"Bakura, what the hell are you doing?"

"You're scared, this is all scary for you, so let's go back. Obviously you want to dawdle instead of rescuing your lover. If that's the case, you've wasted enough of our time, so I want to go back home."

Ryo jerked his hand free. "Yes, I'm scared, but I never planned on turning back. Gods, if I did that every time I doubted something I'd never accomplish a thing." Ryo walked up the path faster than before. "Besides, I have a mind to see his eyes opened."

"Well then, that's more like it."

"Oh, you bolshy ass."

Three waited for them at the very top. Behind them Ryo caught Kek's form laying on his funeral bed. The one in the lead looked different, more expressive and in bloodied priests robes instead of the dark, hunter cloak. He glared at Ryo. "I know you. I know by your hair. You're the one that caused our child to go astray and break three of his vows."

"You speak?"

"I've just risen from the fires of God. The need for trivial things like speech fades over time."

Ryo lifted his scarred hand. Sunlight struck the white slash of scar hidden in Ryo's foam-white palm. "I'm here to rescue my beloved."

He shook his head, the wound on his bald skull hadn't fully healed and a pearl of krovy dribbled down his head, but it was clotted and dark, not something spent from a living wound. "He's to be punished by God until he repents with his life. You cannot have him."

"I already have him. I'm here to see his eyes open."

"Impossible."

"Then let me pass and watch the impossible, but don't expect me to spare you. Your life doesn't come as a gift from god, but as a result of dark magic stealing from the land."

"Do you think all it takes is a sword and then you have to power to pass judgment?"

"Do you think all it takes is putting on a priest's robe to give you the same right?"

The priest pulled a small sword and knife from his robe and ran down the hill."

"Marik, Bakura, distract him," Ryo whispered, feinting a charge. He dashed left and killed one of the hunters. Ryo pivoted behind the priest in order to sink Glass' edge into the second hunter. As soon as they shattered to the fresh grass and wild flowers below, Ryo stood with his sword, waiting for the head priest.

Marik and Bakura danced around him, neither of them attacking. They blocked his strikes and dashed out the way when they saw Ryo waiting.

"Cowards!" the priest screamed.

Bakura shrugged, grin ever on his face.

"If you want to fight, I'm behind you," Ryo said.

The Father turned, Marik and Bakura forgotten as he looked at Ryo. "You killed them all?"

"Yes, and look around you. Isn't it better like this? The lilacs and the lavender, the heather and the thistle and the irises - all blooming around us. The blossoms from the plum trees now color the sky soft purple. You recognize the color, right?"

A fly landed on the congealed krovy coated the injured side of the priest's face. Ryo watched it for a moment. "Don't you think it's soon for a fly? The plants just bloomed. Maybe it's a gift from the gods, or even your God."

"Enjoy the blooms, because his eyes will remain close. Killing me does nothing to change that."

"I believe you. Killing you does nothing to change that." Ryo aimed for the priest's shoulder, but the priest blocked. Ryo darted back a few steps, keeping himself out of reach. "Your blades are poisoned, right?"

"Yours is enchanted." He stepped in and attempted a disabling stroke aimed for Ryo's knee.

Ryo back stepped. "Then it's a fair fight."

They attacked and parried and circled in the grass, surrounded by plum trees weeping purple petals.

"Hurry up, Ryo! We want to get back to a town and celebrate ourselves senseless!" Marik called.

"They'll distract you," the priest warned.

"They'll distract me? Or you?" Ryo blitzed the priest, thrust, thrust, sweep, pierce, but the priest blocked, blocked, blocked, and dodged. "You're better at fighting." Ryo frowned.

The priest dropped his sword into the grass, moving fast and weaving so Ryo couldn't catch an opening as he took a small bottle filled with black liquid and crushed the glass in his teeth.

"Ryo watch out!" Marik screamed. "He'll spit it in your eyes."

"I know," Ryo said, though too quiet for anyone but the priest to hear him. The wind picked up, blinding everyone with purple blossoms. The gust whistled and faded, raining leaves into their hair. When the flowers settled back into the grass, the priest knelt in a nest of petals, half his body covered in frost. Ryo stood above him, pointing Glass down. Sunlight filled the clear blade with light and pale yellow reflected off of Ryo's platinum hair.

"You'll never see—"

He sentence died when Ryo plunged Glass into his back. The priest crumpled to chunks of ice, disappearing in fresh grass and plum blossoms. Ryo sheathed his sword and turned to Kek's monument. He stepped forward, Marik and Bakura stood in the distance and watched Ryo. Marik slipped his hand into Bakura's and they exchanged a small glance at each other, but didn't say anything.

Ryo walked up to the slab of marble in which Kek lay. He sat down on the marble beside Kek, resting his hand on Kek's chest. He hardly felt Kek's heartbeat and that made Ryo tremble. "I'm here. I'm not sure what to do, but I'm here, Kek."

Ryo watched Kek's sleeping face, thick lips slightly parted and eyelashes fluttering in a dream. Whole plum blooms floated in the golden mess of Kek's hair. Ryo smiled. "Remember that morning? It was right before we reached land and I was fresh from the sea. You slept in bed, and I admired you just like I am now, and I touched your hair, like this . . ." Ryo combed the petals from Kek's hair, taking a single flower and teasing it over Kek's cheekbones and bottom lip. You were so beautiful, in our bed, lamp-light kissing your features. You're more beautiful now, with the sunlight slanting on your face. I remember leaning over and kissing you and you woke up."

Ryo dropped the plum flower and it floated to the ground. He leaned down, his lips hovering over Kek's as his green glazes studied Kek's face. "Remember? You said when I drew near your side you wanted me to kiss you so badly that when I did – you woke up." Ryo sighed. His breath ghosted across Kek's sleeping face. He brushed his nose against the tip of Kek's nose, keeping his lips floating just above Kek's face. "The last time we kissed it was only magic. You wanted me to find you. You wanted my lips against your mouth . . ." Ryo rested his hand on Kek's chest again, feeling Kek's heart drum through his ribcage, fast, hard, and strong. "So what's it going to be, lovey? Goodbye . . . or good morning?" He lowered his lips until they were just above Kek. "How bad do you want this kiss?"

As soon as their lips touched Kek gasped, jerking his mouth open to accommodate Ryo's kiss. He hands reached out to the sides of Ryo's face, grazing his fingertips against the contours of Ryo's cheeks. As they kissed, they moaned soft and gentle into each other's mouths.

Ryo kept his glazzies opened, kept his stare focused on Kek's face, until he saw the stark, living color of Kek's opened eyes.

* * *

 *****The end. You kinda already know what happens next, since Kek had a vision of it. They become travelling bard heroes and live happily ever after. Woot. *****

 *****Hope y'guys like the fic. Any constructive** **criticism for this will be extra helpful since I'd like to convert it into a non-fanfic one day, but not any time soon, so until then it'll sit here for random reading enjoyment.*****


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